
Book -^^^-i„ 



HIS TORT 

of 

Qompany "£" 




303d ENGINEERS 

of the 

J 8th Division 



igiy—igig 



tmi3 






Compiled by 
Sergeant Joseph P. Roth 

and 

Corporal Robert L. Wheeler 

Drawings by 

Corporal John E. Williams 
Private Earl O. Hurst 
Prjvate Henry N. Kost 






ROCHESTER, N. Y.: 
JOHN P. SMITH PRINTING COMPANY 
I919 



CONTENTS 

Page 

INTRODUCTION 9 

CHAPTER I 13 

Organization of Company and Training 
AT Camp Dix 

CHAPTER II 23 

The Voyage on the Kashmir 

CHAPTER III 38 

At Rest Camp No. 6 

CHAPTER IV 46 

In the British Sector 

CHAPTER V 63 

Trip to American Sector 

CHAPTER VI . 72 

Training in American Sector 

CHAPTER VII 96 

In the St. Mihiel Sector 

CHAPTER VIII 115 

In the Meuse-Argonne Sector 

CHAPTER IX 155 

At Les Laumes 

CHAPTER X 180 

Homeward Bound 

LEST WE FORGET 198 

ROSTER 204 

COMMENDATORY LETTERS AND ORDERS 220 



INTROT>UCTORr 

For the officers, non-commissioned officers 
and privates of Company "E" this book is 
published in remembrance of the days spent 
together in camp, on our tedious, weary hikes 
through France, our activities in the St. 
Mihiel and Meuse-Argonne sectors and our 
"waiting days" at Les Laumes, France. 

That our soldiering days are over is a 
blessing, a pleasure for us all; our comrade- 
ship and our friendship let live on forever; our 
tasks and trials were not always pleasant but 
we performed them cheerfully and willingly. 
We came into the army untrained, unused to 
the disciplinary ways of a soldier's life, but we 
have profited by our experiences, or if not, 
we were not real soldiers; we did what we were 
asked and bear no malice, no vengeance 
toward anyone, knowing that all tasks, no 
matter how disagreeable, were done in a spirit 
of duty and obedience to our higher com- 
manders; we were victorious; we have a record 
to be proud of, praised many times by our 
superior officers; our work was always of the 



best, owing to the personal interest taken by 
all; we should be proud of ourselves and our 
splendid record, hesitating not to keep on 
living and striving for the better things in 
life. 

And for this ''humble history," may it be 
said that we have striven to produce a story 
appealing and interesting to all. We have 
tried to cover all notable achievements, all 
interesting happenings and every point of 
interest to the company as a whole. We all 
have our own personal reminiscences of 
certain times and certain happenings. Fit 
them in the story as you read along; our book 
will be complete and the writers shall feel 
that their work is well done. 

Sgt. Joseph P. Roth, 
Corp. Robert L. Wheeler. 



THE 78TH DIVISION 

The 78th or Lightning Division is a 
National Army Division composed of men 
from New Jersey, New York and Delaware, 
with several of the Southern and Western 
states well represented. 

Landed in England May 31st to June 7th, 
1918; in France June ist to June nth, 1918. 
Commander: Major General Jas. H. McRae. 

Areas — Behind Hazebrouck, Nielles-lez- 
Blequin, to July 19th, 1918. Behind Arras, 
Roellecourt, July 19th to August 20th, 191 8. 
Bourbonne les-Bains, American Zone,August 
2ist to 31st, 1918. Camp de Meucon, F. A. 
Brigade, to August 17th, 191 8. Semur-en- 
Auxois (Cote-d'Or) American Zone, Novem- 
ber 15th, 1918 to May 13th, 1919. 

Sectors — Limey and Puvenelle sectors, 
St. Mihiel Front, September i6th to Octo- 
ber 4th; Grand Pre, St. Juvin Sector, Argonne 
Front, October i6th to November 5th. 

Battles — St. Mihiel Attack, September 
i2th to September i6th, 1918. Limey sector, 
St. Mihiel front, September i6th to October 



4th. Argonne-Meuse Battle, October i6th 
to November 9th, 191 8. 

Losses — Killed, 1,091; Wounded, 5,947; 
Missing, 360. 

Mentioned in General Orders 232, Meuse- 
Argonne Battle; in General Orders 238, St. 
Mihiel Attack. Special Commendation from 
Corps and Army Commander upon persist- 
ency and generalship in capturing the strong- 
hold of Grand Pre. 



HISTORY OF COMPANY "E" 

CHAPTER I 

Organization of Company and Training 
AT Camp Dix 

When Congress declared on April 7, 1917, 
that "a state of war existed between the United 
States and the Imperial German Govern- 
ment," the thought came to each and every- 
one of us, that sometime, somewhere, we 
would be called upon to do our part in backing 
up the honor of our beloved nation which had 
been so unjustly trampled upon. If we could 
have foreseen that we were eventually to 
become members of Company E, 303d En- 
gineers, we would not have hesitated for one 
moment to offer our services immediately to 
our country, that we might sooner join this 
splendid organization of good fellows whose 
pride and spirit were unequalled, who have 
labored hard and endured much, who have 
fought in two of the toughest sectors of 
France, who were in the fight at the finish 
taking part in the Grand Pre offensive in the 
Meuse-Argonne Sector, which unlocked the 
door to Sedan and final Victory and created 
history for the "78th Lightning Division." 



The Selective Service Act was the Govern- 
ment's choice as the most efficient, justifiable 
means of getting together the army that was 
to represent America in this great conflict. 
Cantonments and camp sites were quickly 
laid out; the wheels of the big war machine 
were put in motion; barracks were rapidly 
raised to house this new army and inside of 
three months the first draft contingents were 
arriving at these camps to undergo a period 
of intensive training which would fit them for 
this new life. To Camp Dix, N. J. goes the 
honor of training and raising the 78 th Division 
and to Camp Dix, N. J., our memories shall 
ever draw us to those first days when Com- 
pany E was in its infancy. 

The organization of the company was 
efl^ected on September 3, 1917, by the assign- 
ment and presence of Capt. Robert A. 
Greenfield, ist Lt. Theodore S. Babcock, ist 
Lt. Merl B. Breese, 2nd Lt. George L. Beaver 
and 2nd Lt. Manly L. Mackey. Further 
organization was effected September 8th by 
the arrival of Sgt. William McGrath and Cpls. 
William E. Allen and Charlie Connors from 
the regular army who were sent as instructors 
to the incoming army of raw recruits. On 
October nth, 126 recruits joined the com- 
pany, being picked men from the Infantry 
and Artillery branches of the Division, who 
[14 1 



had already put in two weeks of training and 
were familiar with the first rudiments of 
army life, chief among them being Reveille — 
the one formation of all which never found a 
backer or admirer among us. Training was 
begun then as a company, the men taking up 
their new duties eagerly and showing no 
little rivalry for the many non-com. positions 
open. Recruits came in from time to time, 
officers were transferred and replaced, many 
skilled men were transferred to other organ- 
izations at other camps which were getting 
ready to leave for overseas. In short, we 
were for the first four months a sort of replace- 
ment organization. In the late Spring of 
191 8, we were recruited to full strength, 
everyone had his place and his own particular 
duty. We were eagerly waiting for the hour 
of departure and the time when we would 
take our places alongside our French com- 
rades and prove to the world that our train- 
ing and education in this new life was not in 
vain and would be rewarded by a victory, 
even though we saw ahead of us sleepless 
nights, hunger and cold, misery and suffering 
and perhaps grim death in *'No Man's Land." 
We were out to win and win we must, for 
Uncle Sam never turns back, no matter how 
disagreeable the task or how dark and rough 
the path ahead might be. 
[15 1 



Hard work and drill alone were insufficient 
to produce a well trained soldier. A policy 
of "all work and no play," would bring forth 
results that would prove contrary to the end 
in view, which is absolutely necessary to the 
success of any army — the high morale of the 
troops. Our Regiment erected a large As- 
sembly Hall within our camp area, which 
was completed in December, 1917. Picture 
shows, vaudeville, boxing bouts, and basket- 
ball games were put on from time to time, 
and everyone had occasion to enjoy his 
spare moments after training hours. Wednes- 
day and Saturday afternoons, as well as Sun- 
days, were laid aside for rest and recreation. 
Week-end leaves were granted from Saturday 
noon until Monday morning and the rush for 
trains on Saturday noon resembled a swarm 
of bees seeking their hive in a body. Like- 
wise the incoming trains brought their quota 
of visitors for those unable to get away, and a 
busier station was never seen or written about. 
Everything possible was done to encourage 
the boys in the way of pleasure and good 
fellowship. During the Holidays, one-half 
of the company were permitted to visit their 
homes at Christmas time and the remaining 
half at New Years. For many, this was their 
first visit home since donning the khaki 
colored uniform and preparations for the 
[16] 



trip were begun two and three days previous. 
The Supply Sergeant was a busy man, and 
often a no-good fellow, changing old uniforms 
for new, issuing shoe strings and the like, and 
sometimes being unable to was given "special 
mention" by the disappointed **buck" while 
rehearsing the story with his Buddy. Of 
course the poor *'buck" wanted to show a 
splendid front in the old home town, so he 
was not to blame for a few words of profanity 
aimed at the Supply Sergeant who acted as 

though **he had to pay for those d n 

clothes himself!" During the early months of 
191 8, and up until a few weeks prior to de- 
parture for overseas, many were given fur- 
loughs, so that mostly everyone in the com- 
pany had an opportunity of visiting home 
before sailing. There were a few who took 
matters in their own hands and left camp 
without permission. Those of us who did so 
can well remember the occasion and it is not 
deemed necessary to mention the names here 
or what punishment was meted out to them 
upon return. 

The winter of 1917-1918 at Camp Dix was 
very severe, as those of us who were present 
will testify. Old Jack Frost took hold with a 
vengeance, but undaunted by his efforts, we 
continued our training as best we could 
under the conditions. In real severe weather, 
[17] 



classes were held indoors, problems discussed, 
miniature bridges erected, drill regulations 
thrashed out and all theoretical points were 
thoroughly gone over. Calisthenics were 
practiced in the squad-rooms and in less 
severe weather, hikes were taken once a day 
across the snow-covered, wind-driven fields. 
With the parting of Winter and the coming 
of Spring and fair weather, came a busier 
training period. The day was not far distant 
when we would be called upon to start forth 
on our journey overseas to participate in the 
"Battle of Nations." To that end every 
effort was exerted towards putting on the 
final polish. The company was divided into 
different engineering sections, as: Reconnais- 
sance, Signal, Bridges, Roads, Demolition, 
Fortifications, Transportation and Adminis- 
tration, each different section training at its 
own line of work. Rifle practice was taken 
up on the camp range in order that we might 
learn to snipe off the Hun efficiently; bayonet 
drill was part of our training; trenches were 
laid out; dugouts constructed; barb wire 
erected; a complete battlefield mapped out. 
Gas drills were held, each man passing 
through the gas chamber; regimental reviews 
were held weekly and finally a Division re- 
view was pulled off. We took part in a 
regimental practice march and tent pitching, 
[18] 



marching to Columbus, N. J., where camp 
was made, returning to our barracks at night. 
This was our first taste of a real hike with 
light pack and rifle. The day was very pleas- 
ant and as we marched along, we sang and 
joked and soon were perspiring under the rays 
of the hot sun. A fifteen minute rest was 
enjoyed each hour and when, about noon, we 
pulled into a large vacant lot, we were a tired 
and hungry bunch. Tents were pitched in 
rows, each company having its own street. A 
dinner was prepared, which, while not served 
in courses, was just as fully appreciated and 
"seconds" were in big demand. The regi- 
mental band furnished music after dinner 
while we basked in the pleasant sunshine, 
unmindful of what the future held in store 
for us. The shrill whistle of the "Top" soon 
brought us back to our sense of military 
duty and the next ten minutes found us 
standing by with packs swung in position, 
waiting for the command of "Forward, 
march!" The return march was without 
incident outside of a few remarks from the 
boys as to the ever-increasing heat, and when 
camp was reached about 6:00 P. M. that 
night, all agreed as one, that it "was some 
day." Relief was sought and obtained under 
the cool showers and it was a happy, clean 
family that discussed the day over the supper 
[19] 



table that night. The training of the com- 
pany progressed rapidly and favorably under 
the guidance and instruction of the officers, 
made possible by the good will and spirit of 
the men, and by May we were ready and 
willing, each and every one of us, to take a 
fling at the Hun and his damnable policy of 
"World Dominion." 

On May 6th, ist Lt. Warner King and ist 
class Sgt. Robert G. Swan left camp as mem- 
bers of the Division advance detachment, 
bound for over there. About the middle of 
May, orders were received that the Division 
was soon to sail for overseas service. Every- 
thing was hustle and bustle. Extra equip- 
ment was packed for shipment. Boxes were 
piled high in front of the barracks marked 
with the "A. E. F." stamp and the camp 
presented the appearance of a huge ware- 
house. The company office was as busy as 
the New York Stock Exchange on a record 
breaking day. Papers and records were 
piled high, while Sgt. Roth with his able 
assistant Cpl. Hulse, worked like beavers 
clearing away the mountain of paper work 
and when the last letter was written, the 
final period struck on the typewriter, records 
passed as O. K. and packed away, there came 
over the office a stillness hitherto unknown 
therein — a pleasant state of quietude that 
[20] 



none but those connected therewith appre- 
ciated. A few changes were made in the 
personnel of the company, some being re- 
jected at the final overseas examination for 
physical unfitness and others transferred in 
to fill up the vacancies. Those who were 
rejected resigned themselves to their fate 
with feelings of deep regret. That they must 
be left behind and taken from a company of 
men they had trained with and learned to 
know as comrades and friends was a bitter 
disappointment. 

The final day of parting arrived. Excite- 
ment was at its height. Visitors were 
excluded from the camp that the last moments 
might be made less sorrowful for us by the 
tears of mothers and sweethearts. While each 
and every one of us desired this last meeting, 
we realized down in our hearts that it was 
better not to happen. Letters were written 
and final good-byes sent through the mail. 
All day long the prospective trip was dis- 
cussed by the boys and all seemed happy and 
anxious to get started. All company records 
were in good shape, the oflice closed, packs 
made up and all was ready for the journey. 
The officers then present with the company 
were Capt. Greenfield (Commanding), ist Lt. 
Babcock, ist Lt. Breese, 2nd Lt. Soden and 
2nd Lt. Aiken. Sgt. Robert J. Scanlon was 
[211 



"Top" and thus commanded, we were ready 
for our trip. We waited through the long 
hours of the night, having a farewell lunch in 
the barracks at midnight. At 2:30 A. M. 
Sunday morning. May 26, 191 8, we assembled 
in front of our barracks. Capt. Greenfield 
commanded ''Squads right" which echoed out 
through the early morning stillness and the 
column marched away towards the railroad 
station, leaving the barracks, which for eight 
months had sheltered us, solitary and de- 
spondent. The train was boarded in due 
time and at 3:30 A. M., we pulled out of 
Camp Dix, headed for Jersey City — and 
France. 



[22 



CHAPTER II 

The Voyage on the Kashmir 

We reached Jersey City about 7:00 A. M. 
that same Sunday morning. On each track 
within the immense train shed, troop trains 
were pulling in. Some had already emptied 
their loads and were making room for others; 
the station was alive with a mass of khaki 
colored soldiers laden down with heavy pack 
and rifle, on business bent. They were in the 
best of spirits and cheerfully took to this 
first phase of the trip. Thorough discipline 
prevailed and as quickly as they were un- 
loaded they marched through the station to 
the docks where ferries were boarded, trans- 
porting them down the Hudson River to the 
camouflaged transport ships waiting at the 
Brooklyn dock to ferry these fighters across 
the Atlantic. No cheering crowds were there 
to urge us on and bid us Godspeed on our 
journey. Instead, there were but a few hand- 
fuls of early morning travelers who gaped at 
us inquisitively, wondering perhaps to them- 
selves if we would ever come back alive, and 
if beneath our mask of cheerfulness there was 
sorrow in our hearts. But not one of us 
[23 1 



sorrowed, not one weakened. We were cog- 
nizant of the fact that we were leaving behind 
homes and mothers and did not know what 
the future held in store for us. The seed had 
been sown and we were there to see it pro- 
duce results, contrary to any opposition or 
obstacles that might lie in our path. 




Like those who went before us, so we too 
followed after, filing out on the dock where 
arms were stacked, packs unslung and a rest 
obtained for nearly an hour, while awaiting 
the ferry. Across the Hudson lay the city 
of New York which was the object of our 
discussion, its towering sky-scrapers stretch- 
ing themselves up into the placid blue sky, 
[24 1 



bearing silent witness of the scenes around 
them as well as that of the company of 
Engineers resting behind stacked arms. Up 
and down the river the boats and barges 
plied in busy maneuverings; a ferry boat 
would dump its load of passengers into the 
City of Jersey to be swallowed up in the 
traffic, forgetting soon the boys they saw 
behind the stacked arms as they passed the 
dock; the whistles of the tugs and ferries 
shrieked out warningly as they darted in and 
out; the whole scene was a bedlam of bustle 
and noise. Our ferry boat arrived. We were 
packed on, having not much more than elbow 
room, the whistle was sounded, the engine 
put in motion and we gradually pulled away 
from dock, steaming down the Hudson and 
leaving Jersey City to its fate. We passed 
Lower New York and Battery Park, around 
Governors Island where Uncle Sam had a 
large store of equipment and ammunition as 
well as the Headquarters of the Eastern 
Department of the Army; while off in the 
distance, the Statue of Liberty looming up, 
seemed to inspire us with a greater love and 
devotion for the tasks ahead of us. All these 
scenes were taken in by us with great interest, 
for to many of us this was our first excursion 
on the Hudson. We crossed the East River 
to Brooklyn, docking at the Bush Terminal 
[25] 



where we unloaded, entering the huge ware- 
house where roll was called to assure that no 
one was missing. 

Outside in its slip, the transport Kashmir, 
the memory of which to us shall be immortal, 
was tied fast. Its bunkers were full of coal, 
its holds laden with food and water in readi- 
ness for the coming voyage. She was an old 
British freighter from the P. & O. line, and 
judging from her appearance and makeup, 
was not recently launched. The outside 
glistened with a new coat of gray paint, and 
she seemed to hold her head high with pride 
and deceit at her latest attempt to appear as 
she did once before, many years ago. 

Down in her holds, where once was stored 
fruits and products on her trips from Britain 
to East India, were arranged tables for mess 
and on the ceiling at about eighteen inch 
spaces were hooks, from which at night plain 
canvass hammocks were hung, in which we 
reposed after struggling vainly to master the 
art of climbing into them, which was as 
difficult as walking slack wire. On the front, 
middle and rear well decks were the galleys 
or "cook shacks" in which the meals were 
prepared. Mounted on the aft rear deck 
was a three-inch gun manned by British 
sailors who stood guard day and night, hoping 
to view the periscope of some danger seeking 
[26] 



submarine and display their aiming abilities 
by sending forth the leaden pellets with 
accuracy and destruction. In the center of 
the boat off the hurricane decks were the 
first class staterooms, and above the offices 
of the ship commander and the lookout. To 
the front and rear were the second class state- 
rooms and below decks, deep down in the 
dark, poorly ventilated holds, were the quart- 
ers for the bucks and others. Still deeper 
down, were the big engines which were to 
pound away incessantly until we were safely 
landed on foreign soil, their coal-eating boilers 
being fed by dark skinned natives from East 
India, who labored unceasingly midst the 
tremendous heat for the paltry sum of a 
shilling a day. 

About noon we embarked, marching in 
single file up the narrow gangway, each man 
being checked off and issued a pink ticket . 
which entitled him to a hammock, a place at 
the mess table, two meals a day (breakfast at 
eight, dinner at four), scarcely enough room 
for himself and equipment and all the pure air 
he could inhale while on deck. The officers 
drew first class staterooms; the non-coms, 
above the grade of sergeant, second class 
staterooms where three meals a day were 
served, while the rest of us crushed and 
jammed down in that deep-down hole where 
[27] 



light was scarce and pure air unknown. 
Surprise was plainly visible on the faces of all 
as we crowded in, not a pleasant surprise, 
but a surprise of disappointment as we tried 
to figure out where we could put all our 
equipment, how we could eat and sleep in 
this crowded space. We decided, for we had 
to decide, as there was no alternative. Packs 
were jammed under the tables, hung over- 
head on the beams and crammed wherever a 
little available room presented itself. At 
four that afternoon, we had our initial meal 
on board the Kashmir. Two men from each 
table, there being eighteen at a table, climbed 
three flights of narrow stairs to the **chow 
shack" where the cooks portioned out enough 
cofl^ee and slum, supposed to be enough for 
eighteen, and dashed it into a couple of 
buckets. Down below the other sixteen men 
waited for their chow, protesting at the long 
wait which sometimes occurred due to waiting 
in the chow line on deck; then when the chow- 
carriers appeared there was a loud shout, a 
wild scramble and many an argument be- 
cause someone probably got one more bean 
or a little more coffee than his neighbor. 
Supper over, mess kits were cleaned up, 
tables mopped and all climbed on deck to get 
a last view of the surroundings and to get our 
bearings in our new home. Our quarters 
[28 1 



and the coming trip were the main objects 
of discussion and unanimous ridicule. Dark- 
ness soon came and with it the desire to 
sleep and dream as on deck there was nothing 
left to do. Down in the hold, all was excite- 
ment and there was much amusement as we 
swung our hammocks for the first time. Many 
a fall was taken and many a scene took place 
which can never be duplicated. That first 
night nor the nights following in the ham- 
mocks will never be forgotten. Clothes were 
not taken off, excepting our shoes, as we had 
no place to lay them and besides it was cool 
and musty. Many a one thought of home, 
pajamas and white sheets, but soon dozed 
away to sleep, tired out from the long, busy 
strain of the day. 

During the night the Kashmir pulled out 
from her moorings and anchored off the coast 
of Long Island where we found ourselves the 
next morning at Reveille. At 7:30 A. M. 
we started on our journey. For a while we 
watched the beautiful scenery along the shore, 
the lovely bungalows and mansions until 
eight o'clock beckoned us to lower ourselves 
into the hold where we indulged in a repast of 
coffee, oatmeal and a few ancient hard boiled 
eggs. The 1 22nd Regiment of Field Artillery 
made up the larger part of the passengers and 
Col. Foreman, the Illinois wild-cat, was their 
[29 1 



commander and likewise the dominating 
factor in all doings for the rest of the journey. 
The engineers did not stand any too well in 
his favor and many a misfortunate one got 
bawled out for trifles, a few being put in the 
brig for trivial offenses, which earned a bad 
name for him among us, as well as becoming 
the unknown recipient of many an army 
curse. Life belts were issued to each man 
on board and from then on were our constant 
companions, being used for pillows at night. 
To appear on deck without one meant a sure 
spell in the brig. 

The days following varied with different 
happenings and humor. Our third day at 
sea was perhaps the saddest. The weather 
was dismal, the ocean rough and the Kashmir 
dipped and rolled in the turbulent sea. Many 
of the boys weakened and bestowed upon the 
fishes a free lunch, ofttimes polluting the decks 
at **hurry calls." The drizzling rain wet the 
decks and the stairways and made walking a 
new art to be learned and perfected. The 
scenes at mess times especially were funny 
enough to make Charlie Chaplin envy their 
originality. Men with a pail of coffee in one 
hand and a pan of stew or dessert in the other 
were an object of pity. As the boat rolled 
the decks slid out from under their feet and 
they would end up with a sudden bump that 
[30] 



shook their systems from stem to stern; 
almost miraculously stew was transferred 
from the pan to the coffee pot; a slip of both 
feet would bring a pan of cowardly eggs down 
on the head of the carrier, making him look 
like one who was just getting an egg shampoo 
in a Fifth Avenue barber shop. Descending 
the companionway was the most difficult 
proceeding of all. The stairs were slippery, 
the boat rolled, necessitating additional pre- 
caution, and down would go stew and all, 
showering those below with an unwelcome 
rain of chow, which caused much mirth to 
the onlookers and extracted curses from the 
recipients. Some more discreet than others 
would sit on the stairs, clinging tightly to 
their buckets and descend step by step as an 
infant just learning to creep. Those waiting 
below were oftimes disappointed in not get- 
ting their full share of eatables and the mis- 
fortunate carriers were roundly scored. 

Throughout the daytime, when it was not 
raining, everyone camped on deck to get the 
air and watch for subs. Most of the time 
was spent in lounging. Some picked out a 
secluded spot and sought pleasure in reading. 
Others, too sick to see or enjoy anything, 
stretched themselves out to die, their palid 
countenances and unshaven faces being sub- 
ject to both pity and laughter. Crap games 
[31] 



were numerous and fortunes changed hands 
from hour to hour. Monte Carlo had nothing 
on that place except polished mahogany 
furniture, velvet carpets and dazzling chande- 
liers. No little rivalry existed between the 
Artillerymen and Engineers, and it is safe to 
say that when an artilleryman ventured into 
a game with his brother engineer, he was 
bound to come out loser if squeezing and 
fighting counted as victorious assets. It was 
a long time between meals, so long that our 
appetites, tantalized by the fresh sea breezes, 
brought us to a point where we could devour 
anything (outside of bully beef) and call it 
delicious. A canteen was open on the hurri- 
cane deck each day, where candy and fruit 
xould be purchased for a small fortune. Life 
drills were held daily, each company having 
its allotted place on deck and number of life 
rafts to be used if the opportunity presented 
itself. The water was a greenish blue and 
icy cold as it splashed and churned in mighty 
upheavals and a dip therein was far from 
a pleasant expectation for any of us. There 
was no cause however for such an icy bath as 
no subs appeared to mar the peacefulness of 
the journey and if one had, we entertained 
grave apprehension for its safety, due to the 
fact that our gunners while at practice just 
before entering the ^'danger zone" placed 
[32 1 



three shots directly in one spot in the briny 
deep. 

The morning of June 6th beamed bright 
and fair and brought us within the ''danger 
zone" where many an unprotected ship had 
been the victim of those deep sea terrors. 
x^s we came up on deck that morning, we saw 
a new stage setting had taken place that car- 
ried with it a feeling of reserve and safety. 
Ahead, to the rear and sides of us were many 
small English destroyers which had come to 
meet us and escort us safely through the last 
lap of our journey. It was a wonderful sight 
to see them as they darted back and forth 
with great speed and agility, patroling the 
sea as far as the eye could see, now running 
close, now darting off in the opposite direc- 
tion, cutting the water like a knife and throw- 
ing a gigantic spray and splash that hid them 
from our view every now and then behind 
a dazzling maze of salt water. Ever ahead 
of us was a large U. S. Battleship which had 
been with us throughout the journey. A 
feeling of easiness came over us all that day 
and we dispelled from our minds the thoughts 
of a bath in the cold, cold sea. 

The morning of June 7th was the occasion 

of much joy, the beginning of what proved 

to be the most pleasant day of our journey. 

After being eleven days at sea with nothing 

[33 1 



to view but the vast expanse of salt water 
and the few transports that lazily kept pace 
with us, it was with bewildering amazement 
that we gazed once more upon land that morn- 
ing. We were passing through the Irish sea, 
and the cliffs of "Bonnie Scotland'* were as 
pleasing to the eye as the shores of "Emerald 
Isle" on the opposite side, both of which vied 
with each other in wondrous beauty and 
where we concentrated our thoughts with 
deep feelings of praise and thanksgiving that 
our journey was almost over and the harbor 
of safety was near at hand. When evening 
came, just as the sun was lowering down be- 
hind the hills, we steamed into the harbor of 
Liverpool and our journey was at an end. 
Small tugs and fishing smacks darted hither 
and thither and cheers and hand wavings 
were exchanged in the passing. In the dis- 
tance many inhabitants on the shores waved 
a hearty welcome to us. The town presented 
a beautiful picture, its long rows of neat brick 
houses standing out distinctly like a new 
trimmed hedge, the church spires silhouetted 
against the horizon, where the golden sun 
was slowly sinking into oblivion. A large 
dirigible which had hummed overhead the 
whole day on the lookout for enemy subs, 
now passed from view beyond the hilltops, 
satisfied that we no longer needed her pro- 
[34 1 



tection. Small tugs came to our rescue and 
towed the Kashmir into dock where after 
much struggling, straining and maneuvering 
she was finally made fast and her work was 
done. 

Orders were received that we would disem- 
bark in the morning, so after an hour or so spent 
on deck indulging in a cool smoke and a few 
words of appreciation for our safe landing, we 
descended for the last time into the hold, 
where for the first time in eleven nights, we 
were not rocked to sleep by the rolling of the 
ship. We were up early the next morning 
and surged on deck to view the surroundings. 
We were in a slip between large warehouses 
and cargoes and supplies were being unloaded 
from other boats near by. Many little waifs 
crowded the docks and for our amusement, we 
pitched pennies to them to see the scramble 
which was promptly stopped by an officious 
red-nosed "Bobby" in blue helmet and sport- 
ing a flowing red moustache. At ten o'clock 
the process of debarkation began and we 
single-filed off the boat, grabbing each a heavy 
barracks bag and carrying them into the 
warehouse from where they were later shipped 
to meet us at Calais. All was completed at 
noon when we marched to the railroad yard 
where a train of side-door coaches awaited 
us, into which we jammed as usual, fighting for 
[35] 



elbow room. It proved to be a real fast train, 
faster than any we have ridden in France. 
Our first glimpse of England well satisfied 
us that it was beautiful and rich in well kept 
farms and gardens, with neat ivy covered 
brick houses dotting the landscape at close 
intervals. At Rugby, we stopped for fifteen 
minutes where coffee was served by Red 
Cross girls, whose smiles added a pleasing 
flavor to the beverage. A short hike was 
taken through the village, the purpose of 
which was to take the kinks out of our limbs 
and not to show off on parade. Once more we 
got under way, and at dusk, we passed around 
the outskirts of London, where we were 
wildly cheered by the population at the 
crossings. Bully beef and hardtack formed 
our lunch on the train and when darkness 
came on, we settled back in our seats to 
await the end of the ride which was hourly 
getting more tiresome. It came about io:oo 
P. M. when we pulled into the Dover Station 
alongside a waiting Red Cross train. The 
town was dark, necessitated by the fact that 
"Jerry" was accustomed to play overhead and 
had often dropped his unwelcome messages of 
death and destruction thereon. A dull silence 
prevailed as we trudged through the streets 
and we neither sang nor whistled as we were 
accustomed to do. The long train ride, the 
[36 1 



heavy packs and rifles, the darkness, all 
tended to depress our spirits. We encount- 
ered a steep hill which nearly proved to be 
our undoing, and weary and exhausted, 
we stopped about midnight on "Victoria 
Heights'* where we were billeted overnight 
in a large vacant mansion. No beds or cots 
were there to greet us; nothing but the bare 
walls and the hard floor, on which we made a 
bed of our two blankets and were soon sleep- 
ing the sleep of the peaceful, forgetful of 
whether or not we were in England or 
America. 



37 



CHAPTER III 
At Rest Camp No. 6 

Our whirlwind trip across England had 
resulted in a slight drowsiness and we **sawed 
wood" industriously until the rays of the sun 
shone through the barrack windows and 
awakened us with thoughts of breakfast. 
With sounds closely resembling those heard 
at the zoo when feeding time rolls round, the 
company rose as one man, sought its mess kit 
and hastened to the mess tent at the back of 
our sleeping quarters. There we received our 
breakfast of oatmeal, meat, bread and tea, 
cheese and jam being by some strange over- 
sight omitted. 

After breakfast we received orders to ''get 
them packs made up and snap into it!" and 
about 9:30 A. M., we marched down the hill 
which we had ascended with so much fervent 
profanity the night before and tramped 
through the streets of Dover to the docks. 
There we sat down to relieve ourselves for a 
few minutes of the weight of our packs. At 
our feet the sunlit waters of the English 
Channel lapped softly against the docks. 
Little tugs bustled in and out with much 
frenzied tooting of whistles; fishing craft lolled 
[38 1 



comfortably at their moorings; and occasion- 
ally on the horizon the rakish looking hull of a 
destroyer showed in sharp silhouette. The 
white chalk cliffs, the fortress that frowned 
above them and the city huddled at their 
feet completed the picture. 

After a wait of an hour or so, we embarked 
on the diminutive steamer, formerly a 
Belgian hospital ship, which was to convey us 
across the Channel to Calais. On her decks we 
resumed the acquaintance of that intricate 
contraption, the fore and aft life-belt, the 
former subject of some of Col. Foreman's best 
orations. By the time these had been ad- 
justed and guards posted at the life boats to 
keep a clear space in front of them in the 
event of a submarine attack, the shores of 
England slipped away from us and we were 
plowing through the water towards Calais. 
The short voyage was without incident, ex- 
cept for a few cases of sea-sickness which may 
or may not have been hangovers from the 
Kashmir, and shortly after one o'clock the 
shores of France rose on the horizon. First 
the vague, indistinct bulk of the sand dunes 
loomed in the distance; then a yellow strip 
of beach nosed up out of the water and finally 
amid a continuous bellowing of whistles, we 
slid into the harbor of Calais, to us the gate- 
way to the Western Front. 
[39] 



There is a place in France, the memory of 
which is deeply imbedded in the hearts of all 
that portion of the A. E. F. which passed 
through Calais; and the mention of this name 
is to that gallant body of men a sign of antag- 
onism, just as the appearance of an orange 
ribbon on the seventeenth of March is to a 
good Irishman. It is Rest Camp No. 6. 

Rest Camp No. 6 is situated in the sand 
dunes and can hardly be distinguished from 
them. Large portions of the dunes get into 
the tents and smaller sections into the tea and 
the man who does not carry around in his shoes 
at least a ton of assorted dunes is an object of 
respectful attention. As we stood and looked 
at the small conical tents, half filled with mud 
and badly ruptured at one side, which were 
expected to house some sixteen to eighteen 
men, there came to our minds General 
Sherman's optimistic words about war and 
with them the firm conviction that he had 
grossly understated the case. This convic- 
tion was strengthened when, after dumping 
our belongings in the tents, we filed into the 
mess hall and partook of a thin watery stew, 
which it would be a scandalous libel to call 
slum, together with those twin bulwarks of 
the British Empire, cheese and jam. We 
were told, however, that we ought to be 
"bloody glad to get it!'* 
[40] 



Other disillusionments were in store for us. 
After dinner word spread that the canteen 
near by sold beer. A large percentage of the 
company immediately grabbed their canteens 
and departed swiftly in the direction of that 
establishment. The first one of the shock 
troops who reached his objective, came out 
with a glad smile on his lips, carefully re- 
moved the stopper from his canteen, took a 
long breath and raised it heavenward. After 
one swallow, he removed it and spat, remark- 
ing sadly ''This ain't beer." Another dream 
shattered. 

Such was our introduction to Rest Camp 
No. 6. Near by chattered and gibbered a 
camp of Chinese coolies who stared at us with 
frank curiosity and sought to entice us into 
the purchase of rings and other souvenirs. 
British Tommies came to loiter and inquire if 
there was anything in that story about that 
new gas of Mr. Hedison's. And every night 
from far away to the east, came a sinister 
mutter and rumble that told of the struggle 
that ebbed and flowed about the hard-held 
lines. 

Calais itself was thronged apparently with 
all the armies of the world. Short, wiry 
Englishmen; tall, broad-shouldered, deep- 
chested Australians; stocky Highlanders; lean 
Canadians; bearded Frenchmen; dark-skinned 
[42] 



Portugese — all the uniforms of the Allies 
jostled each other in its narrow streets. 
Crowds of children beset the wandering 
American with cries of "Souvenir!" and 
estaminet keepers smiled sweetly on him, cor- 
roded his stomach with vin rouge and short 
changed him, all with that delightful courtesy 
which is so distinguishing a characteristic of 
the French nation. 

On the second day of our stay in Calais, we 
received our barracks bags and joyously re- 
covered toilet articles, cigarettes and other 
personal belongings. It was about this time 
that the rumor factory opened full blast, its 
energies being concentrated on the circulation 
of reports relative to the new and deadly gas 
supposed to have been invented by Mr. 
Edison. Among the things which this de- 
structive fluid was supposed to have done, 
was that it had back-fired and killed three 
divisions; to have destroyed boats some ten 
miles out to sea and to have melted the but- 
tons on the coats of all the policemen in towns 
along the Rhine. The civilian population of 
invaded districts had been given solemn 
warning to move out and in short, there was 
going to be an awful time when somebody, 
presumably Mr. Edison himself, pushed the 
button that released the awful blast. As we 
write this, we wonder in our humble way just 
[43] 



what became of that deadly compound — 
"boy, page Mr. Edison gas!" 

June nth, our third day in Rest Camp No. 
6, was a busy one. In the morning we hiked 
some ten miles to a British gas school, where 
we were equipped with British masks and for 
the first time listened to the thrilling story 
of the "small box respirators." We also passed 
through a gas house where we underwent a 
brief session with lachrymatory gas, after 
which we passed through cloud gas which 
closed the day's instruction. 

On our way back we stopped at a British 
storehouse and were issued two bandoliers of 
British ammunition apiece. When we re- 
turned to Calais we were marched to another 
warehouse where we turned in our Eddystone 
rifles and received the British Lee-Enfields in 
return. To us, fresh from our Camp Dix experi- 
ence of the laborious issue of overseas equip- 
ment, with its frenzied checking up of extra 
shoe strings, bacon and condiment cans and 
similar articles, this rapid fire method of 
equipping a company was a revelation. 

In the afternoon the work of stripping us 
for action was completed by turning in most 
of the contents of our barracks bags. One 
blanket, one suit of underwear, two pairs of 
socks and one pair of breeches, one blouse 
and the barracks bags themselves went out 
f44 1 



of our lives forever. There only remained just 
what we could carry on our backs and loud 
was the mourning over articles of personal 
comfort that had to be salvaged. We heard 
that in the due course of time those bags, 
like homing pigeons, would return to us, but 
up to date they are still A. W. O. L. We saved 
everything we could, however, for we had not 
yet reached the stage when a blanket and a 
towel were sufficient equipment. 

Our stay in Rest Camp No. 6 was drawing 
rapidly to a close. That night, word went 
round that we were to move the following day. 
Undisguised shouts of joy greeted the news, 
for so far as we could see the only purpose of 
the place was to make war-worn British 
Tommies glad to get back to the front. The 
''charge" of a detachment of troops who had 
spent a full week in that imitation Sahara 
would be a truly fiendish thing to behold. 

Rest Camp No. 6 was our first experience of 
the hardships of a soldier's life. In that way, 
it probably did us good, for thereafter, 
whenever a pup tent leaked or a billet proved 
too small for the number of soldiers assigned 
to it, we could always grumble philosophically 
"well, anyway, it's better'n that damn 
Calais!" 



45] 



CHAPTER IV 

In the British Sector 

On the morning of June I2th we were 
destined to depart from the knee-deep sands 
of Calais, which fact caused not the least 
bit of hard feeling amongst us. The sun 
rose bright and warm, the herald of morn, 
and was soon scorching down on the sands 
at our feet where we spread our equipment 
and rolled our packs, taking along the larg- 
est portion of the sands. For three days 
we had struggled and lived amidst these 
sands and we cheerfully hastened to make 
ready and bid them farewell. We had also 
vainly striven to appease our appetites 
with the sparing amounts of jam, cheese and 
tea which were daily served us as apologies 
for regular meals. Conditions elsewhere 
could not have been much worse and we 
were at least willing to exploit them. 

Full packs, new gas masks and rifles were 
slung on our backs and we struggled through 
these sands for the last time, out onto the 
main highway where we ambled along more 
easily on the hard macadam road. It was 
about five miles to Fontainette and when 
[46 1 



we reached there we were ready to call it a 
day, as the heavy packs and wool clothing 
had caused us to become wet with perspira- 
tion under the sweltering rays of the tor- 
turous sun. Here at Fontainette was a 
rail-head and our side-door Pullmans were 
lined up ready to receive us. Prior to en- 
training we were issued a sandwich and five 
or six be-curranted tea biscuits which con- 
stituted our noonday lunch en route. 
, We were roused from our reverie about 
4:00 P. M. that afternoon by the sudden 
grinding of brakes and the bump, bump of 
our cars as they jerked back and forth in 
an effort to come to a dead stop. We had 
reached the village of Lombres and had 
taken at least four hours to journey not 
more than thirty kilometers. After much 
juggling and searching for our own equip- 
ment we eventually ended up in company 
formation on a spot of France more appealing 
to one's sense of beauty than those sands of 
Calais. From here we proceeded a few 
more kilos to the village of Lart, where we 
rested overnight in bell tents provided by 
the British. A small creek flowed near by 
which temptingly beckoned to us and we 
were soon splashing and gurgling in its cool 
waters, just as we used to do in our childhood 
days. 

[47 1 



After a refreshing night's sleep we again 
took to the road the following day. Hiking 
was just beginning for us then, as we found 
out later. Our transportation along with 
the rolling kitchen, was to follow after, but 
due to some unforgiveable error they pur- 
sued a different course and as a consequence 
we were obliged to go without dinner on 
the road that day. All afternoon we trudged 
along, taking the wrong road on one occa- 
sion and having to retrace our steps for many 
kilos, which greatly prolonged our march, 
added to the already numerous blisters ac- 
cumulated on our feet and bringing forth 
curses for those responsible for the war. 
We reached our destination at Henneveaux 
about 7:00 P. M. and found that the trans- 
portation had arrived ahead of us, had par- 
taken of their own dinner and were quietly 
awaiting our arrival for some hours. Tents 
were pitched in an orchard, supper hastily 
prepared by "Mac," the Irish cook, and 
''Nutting," the steward of 'The Great 
Lakes" fame. There was no need for "call 
to quarters" that night, for we were all 
safely laid away immediately after supper. 
The long painful hike of that day had brought 
us to a stage where we needed neither rocking 
nor sleeping powders to soothe us to sleep. 
[48 1 



The morning of the 14th found us hiking 
in the direction of Colembert, at which vil- 
lage we camped until the 22nd. Here we 
lived on a side hill that much resembled the 
"Cliffs of Dover" with hard chalky soil into 
which we dug a level spot, that we might 
not cascade down the incline during the 
night. While here we constructed a rifle 
range, which stands as a monument to the 
memory of the first work of Company "E" 
in France. We can never forget the words 
of our Captain on the first morning as we 
assembled for work: **Men of E company. 
Today we will start on our regular engineer- 
ing work!" And we did. Picks and shov- 
els flew fast and by night we had made quite 
an impression in that chalky soil. The range 
being completed after eight days we retired 
from the hills of Colembert and sought other 
conquests in the village of Bellebrune. 

We took possession of the village of Belle- 
brune on the 22nd day of June and had not 
quite got our camp located when we were 
greeted by dirty-faced mademoiselles who 
persisted in thrusting upon us chocolate, 
oranges and wormy figs for a small fortune 
each. Then to add to our troubles we were 
given bayonet, gas-mask and infantry drills 
by British instructors, as well as lectures on 
the usage and upkeep of the "small box res- 
[50] 



pirator." Here, too, we were introduced 
to Col. Metheun of the i8th Northumberland 
Fusiliers, who lectured to us and proved 
to be a friend of all as well as a witty mono- 
logist. We were pleased to serve under his 
direction while here and he showed his 
appreciation of our efforts by sending the fol- 
lowing letter of commendation at the time 
of our departure: 

General Officer Commanding, 

78TH Division, A. E. F. 
Dear General: 

I wish to bring to your notice the splendid 
work done by Colonel Markham, the Offi- 
cers, N. C. O.'s and men of the 303rd En- 
gineers during the four weeks we have been 
with them. 

As the time for training was limited, 
we had to ask them to do a tremendous lot, 
and I can assure you everyone did all they 
possibly could to help carry it out. 

It has been a great pleasure and honor 
to us all to be with such splendid fellows. 
You are indeed fortunate to have such men 
in your Division and I feel sure that they will 
do extremely well in whatever tasks they are 
allotted to carry out. 

I do not think the war will last long 
when your men get into the line, and I wish 
you all every success. 

Yours sincerely, 

(Signed) J. A. METHEUN, 

Lieut. Colonel Commanding 
i8th Northumberland Fusiliers 
[52 1 



The morning of July 3rd wrought a great 
change in **E" company. On that morning 
Capt. Greenfield assembled the company 
around him and said with trembling voice, 
as he tried to suppress a tear: *'Men of E 
company. You are going on a long hike 
today but I am not going with you. I wish 
I were. I would rather go with you as your 
Captain than back to the United States as 
a Major. You will give a good account of 
yourselves, I know you will." And thus 
he took leave of **E" company and with him 
went the good wishes of the entire company, 
for we lost a good friend, a man who had 
the good of every man in the company at 
heart. He was sent to an A. E. F. school at 
Langres and later returned to the States, 
where he was promoted to Major and assigned 
as an instructor at Camp Humphreys, Va. 

We left Bellebrune that morning under 
the charge of ist Lt. Babcock, who proved 
to be a worthy successor to our departing 
Captain. After a long hike we arrived at 
Bonningues about 6:00 P. M., where we 
pitched our humble shelter tents and lost 
no time in turning in for a night of blissful 
sleep. The following morning we rose early, 
folded our tents and packs and proceeded 
on our journey. This was on the Fourth 
of July and by way of a celebration we ended 
[53] 



our hike about noon on a rifle range just 
outside St. Omer, where we spent the after- 
noon and evening, until darkness, trying our 
luck in hitting the **Bulls-eye." During 
the afternoon, Col. Markham delivered an 
address to the entire regiment, calling atten- 
tion to the spirit of independence which this 
day was uppermost in our minds and also 
that soon we would be actively engaged in 
fighting for the independence of the world from 
the fear of German militarism. He also 
expressed his opinion that the war would be 
over before the coming winter. We listened 
with much interest and were thoroughly 
impressed by his statements as he was an 
exceptionally good speaker, possessed with 
the rare power of holding everyone's atten- 
tion. At night a German air-raid party 
came over and proceeded to bomb St. Omer 
with what seemed to be a thousand or more 
high explosive bombs, judging from the 
noise of the explosions. This proved to be a 
very noisy Fourth and I believe without a 
doubt that it was the noisiest celebration that 
any of us had witnessed. With the parting 
of these night raiders quiet came over the 
camp and all were soon pounding away in 
the land of nod, the stillness being broken 
only by the muffled tread of the guard on 
the soft earth as he wearily paced his post. 
[54] 



The day of July 5th found us tramping 
along the hot dusty roads and many a one's 
poor blistered feet called out for mercy, while 
his back strained and ached under the weight 
of his pack. A short rest was obtained 
at noon-time as we frowned over our frugal 
meal, which was far from sufficient to satisfy 
the demands made by our never satisfied 
stomachs. Lederzeele was our stopping point 
that night and as we formed for tent pitching 
at the end of the hike a sigh of relief went 
down the line as packs were hastily and in 
some cases viciously slung on the ground. 
Relief was obtained for our tired, aching, 
blistered feet by bathing in a near by creek 
and administering some foot powder which 
some of us were wise enough to tote along. 
The estaminets in town furnished liquid 
refreshment that night, after which sleep 
was easily obtained. 

We were roused by the harsh sound of 
the bugle at four-thirty the next morning. 
Almost like magic the camp disappeared and 
at six o'clock, before the sun peeped over 
the distant horizon, we marched oflF, leaving 
behind but a vacant lot which to a casual 
observer showed no signs of the busy camp 
life that had taken place the night before. 
This was the third day of hiking since leaving 
Bellebrune and while we were gradually 
[55] 



getting toughened to it, we longed again for 
a permanent camp where hikes were less 
frequent, meals more regular and many 
little comforts could be added to our home 
from day to day. At noon we halted for 
our usual mid-day lunch, which this day 
happened to be a hot liquid stew and hard 
tack. The sun shone clear and bright, and 
in the field alongside where were stacks of 
newly raked hay we stretched ourselves out 
at ease, dozing away quickly in the lazy 
atmosphere only to be rudely disturbed by 
the sharp shrill of the whistle. A short 
after-dinner hike brought us to a field in 
the vicinity of Oudezeele, which ended our 
long hike. Tents were pitched under shel- 
ter of trees bordering the outskirts of the 
field which offered natural camouflage and a 
screen of protection from aerial observation. 
Walls of earth two feet high were thrown 
up around our tents as a safeguard against 
danger in case of air-raids. After several 
days had passed by we were comfortably 
settled and the camp rapidly took on the 
appearance of a permanent one. 

Oudezeele was in the Ypres sector and a 
reserve line of trenches was being established 
in this vicinity, preparatory for an expected 
push by the Germans. Much barbed wire 
was strung, trenches dug, concrete observa- 
[56] 



tion posts erected, drill and regular engineer- 
ing duties performed, putting everything 
in readiness for a stubborn defense in case 
of an offensive by the enemy. Almost every 
night Jerry's planes maneuvered overhead 
in an endeavor to locate munition dumps 
and our camps, but were never very success- 
ful owing to the watchfulness of the **Tom- 
mies' " anti-aircraft batteries. Many a night 
we laid restless, listening to the purr of the 
engines, invisible in the dark sky, as the 
shells burst and searchlights flashed, mak- 
ing it impossible for Fritzie to work effective- 
ly. Ever through the day and night there 
came to our ears from out the distance the 
dull booming of the artillery and occasionally 
in the daytime we witnessed an aerial battle 
which was a wonderful sight to behold. The 
weather at most times was very favorable, 
which brought to us a desire to be back home 
and oftimes a touch of spring fever. Here 
and there over the landscape a huge wind- 
mill, fanned by the soft Flanders breezes, 
slowly turned its large paddles lazily through 
the air, while the surrounding fields of early 
wheat dotted with wild crimson colored 
poppies presented a charming picture for the 
artist's brush. 

It was pouring rain on the morning of 
July 27th when we made up our packs, ready 
[57] 



for another hike to new localities. Before 
noon we were all pretty well soaked to the 
skin and needed but a rub and a change of 
clothing to complete our bath. It was a 
long, tedious hike for us that day after having 
rested our legs at Oudezeele for more than 
three weeks, and there was not a one of us 
but what was ready to quit when we reached 
Helfaut about 6:00 P. M. that night. Here, 
for the first time in France, we secured bil- 
lets, many of us good rooms with an '*hon- 
est-to-God bed and white sheets," and the 
tap, tap of a shoe or mess-kit driving in tent 
pegs was missing on this night. Many had a 
chance to get their clothing dried out by the 
fireside of some hospitable French woman, 
at the same time indulging in a repast of 
fried eggs and chips, together with some 
strong, hot coffee, after which beds were 
quickly sought. It is needless to dwell upon 
the endless chain of comment that passed 
around on our hikes as we all have our own 
personal reminiscences, which may or may 
not hold pleasant memories. 

On the afternoon of the 29th of July we 
reached the city of St. Pol, billeting in its 
environs. Here again we resumed our infan- 
try training and also learned the art of 
throwing hand grenades. One day we 
marched out onto the main highway and 
[59 1 



lined up on the roadside, where, amidst our 
cheers, the King of England passed by in 
his limousine, en route for a tour of inspec- 
tion throughout the English sector. On the 
1 2th of August we paid our respects to Col. 
Markham, who was leaving the regiment to 
take charge of light railway construction, 
and there was sorrow in the hearts of all of 
us that day for we keenly felt the loss of a 
Commanding Officer whose place could not 
be easily filled. 

Hiking those days seemed to be our main 
occupation and on the 13th we started out 
again bag and baggage, ending up at Denier, 
where was located a rifle range on which we 
tried out our prowess as marksmen. Our 
tents were pitched in the woods on a side 
hill, where we cleared away the thick under- 
brush, making a soft bed on the earth of 
twigs and leaves. The night was clear, 
myriads of stars twinkling high in the heav- 
ens, and soon there came to us the faint drone 
of the aero engines, increasing momentarily 
in violence until they seemed to be directly 
overhead. The anti-aircraft batteries began 
to bark and in answer there dropped to the 
earth numerous bombs which exploded with 
a terrific force, but not within close enough 
range to cause any harm. For at least a 
half hour these planes hovered overhead, 
[60 1 



the batteries and planes each trying to out- 
do the other, while we lying in our shelter 
tents hugged the ground pretty closely, a 
few less discreet venturing outside to view 
the doings, risking the chance of getting 
punctured with a stray piece of shrapnel. 
A decision was reached when Jerry withdrew 
to his own domain and once again quietude 
settled over camp and the stars twinkled 
as before with a seeming satisfaction that 
no harm had befallen us. 

Our range work being finished we moved 
again, this time arriving at Savy, near Arras, 
about noon of August 15th, where we billet- 
ed in large unused hospital tents and some 
in smaller bell tents. Here we were em- 
ployed in erecting Casualty Clearing Sta- 
tions for the British, which work progressed 
rapidly and was favorably commented upon 
by the British officers in charge. Just below 
our camp was a narrow gauge railway operat- 
ed by the Tommies, on which supplies and 
ammunition were carried to the front line, 
which was then near Arras and the famous 
"Vimy Ridge." To the west was a large 
airdrome which was almost nightly the 
object of many an unsuccessful raid by the 
enemy. Over across the hill to the east was 
the Red Cross First Aid Station where the 
wounded were being brought in night and 
[611 



day, many of whom passed away to the land 
of the unknown within its portals. The 
"Tommies" and "Scotties" proved to be 
fine fellows and won a place in our hearts 
which we shall always keep in reserve for 
them. They were quick to pick up an 
acquaintance and we, as beginners, eagerly 
devoured their stories of bravery and suffer- 
ing which their three and four years of ex- 
perience had taught them. Their stories of 
being "fed up" with war and prayers that 
"Fritzie" would come over and get them did 
not strike us as being made in jest. Our 
two months in the shell-torn battle area 
later on, proved to us that it was a life that 
could not be lived for any great length of 
time without a man's nerves becoming shat- 
tered and he himself becoming despondent, 
welcoming death as a pacifier of all troubles. 
Our work on the hospitals was never fin- 
ished as we were ordered to pack and move, 
such orders always mystifying us as we 
never knew whither we were bound or why. 
It was our solemn duty to obey and like 
good soldiers we always obeyed, trusting 
to the guidance of those over us to make the 
wisest moves where the best results would be 
accomplished. We willingly broke camp and 
as we marched away wondered more as to 
where we were going than we did about the 
outcome of the war. 

[62 1 



CHAPTER V 

Trip to American Sector 

On the morning of August 20th we bade 
farewell to the village of Savy and incidentally 
to the British Sector. For, although at 
the time we did not know it, we had at last 
severed connections with our old friends, jam 
and cheese and were bound for the American 
Front, where, according to popular report 
ice cream was served daily in the trenches 
and morris chairs were installed in all dug- 
outs. Later we found these reports to be 
somewhat overdrawn. 

After a morning spurt in the necessary 
work of breaking camp, we moved out at 
last under full packs and hiked seven miles 
to Ligny-St. Flochel station where we found 
the rest of the battalion packed in close 
order around the little station at which we 
were to entrain. Here also we discerned 
certain miniature box cars bearing the inscrip- 
tion, *'Hommes 40 - Chevaux 8," which 
were evidently designed to carry us some- 
where. Judging from the condition of the 
cars the ''Chevaux" had been the last occu- 
pants. With groans and curses of relief 
163 1 



we got out of our packs and with one accord 
sat down beside the track and waited for 
something to happen. It happened. In a 
few minutes we fell in line and were each 
presented with a nice new rifle, well coated 
with cosmoline, and shortly after were given 
some hardtack of the reinforced variety. 
This ceremony having been concluded, 
rations were issued and in groups of various 
sizes we climbed into the train. 

It was some time, however, before the said 
train showed any signs of going anywhere 
at all. We waited and employed our time 
in establishing claims (which were always 
contested) to the most comfortable portions 
of the floor and in a last battle with that 
strange concoction known as ''Mackonichie. 
At last after several preparatory toots from 
the engine the landscape began to glide past 
and we knew that our journey had begun. 

By this time it was nearly dark and as 
little profit was to be gained from looking 
out at the monotonous procession of two- 
by-four villages through which we passed, 
we turned to the task of getting settled for 
the night. Trouble promptly ensued. Hob- 
nail shoes crashed against unwary shins, 
blankets and slickers departed mysteriously 
from their owners and were reclaimed amid 
violent arguments and the night at last 
[65] 



resolved itself into a series of heated debates 
over the burning question of *Vhere the 

H 1 am I going to sleep?" Several curious 

and venturesome spirits elected to spend the 
night on the roof, while the peculiar look- 
ing cage which is supposed to be the residence 
of the brakeman became an objective to be 
gained at all costs. In the course of the 
evening friendships which had endured all 
the various tribulations of the soldier's life 
were badly strained, so badly that invitations 
to come on outside were frequent. As the 
train, after a period of stops and starts, was 
now moving at a fair rate of speed, these 
challenges might seem a little unreasonable. 
But as the last argument was settled by com- 
promise, the last cigarette butt finished and 
to the **thump, thump" of the car wheels, 
the peculiar tangle of arms and legs which a 
few hours before had been an orderly look- 
ing platoon of Engineers subsided into some- 
thing remotely resembling sleep. 

The morning of the 2ist found us still 
bumping over the rails. About ten o'clock 
the rumor reached us that we were nearing 
Paris and seats in the door were immediately 
at a premium. We passed through St. 
Denis and shortly after entered the out- 
skirts of that great city to which all members 
of the A. E. F. go when they die. I don't 
[66] 



know what we expected to see — probably 
a large gathering of mademoiselles waving 
American flags and blowing kisses at us — 
but these are my impressions of Paris that 
day arranged in convenient form. It is 
probably the shortest guide book in the 
world: 

1. One member of the S. O. S. (colored) 
reclining against a brick wall. 

2. One small child endeavoring to nego- 
tiate the sale of a bottle of cognac to a thirsty 
Engineer. 

3. One barge on the Seine River. 

4. Three street cars. 

5. A row of dingy tenement houses. 
After a two hours inspiring view of various 

coal piles we finally left Paris behind us and 
pursued our journey. It was a bright sun- 
shiny afternoon and the blue skies and the 
sight of the green meadows and pretty vil- 
lages through which we passed combined to 
put all of us in better humor than we had 
been in the night we entrained. Later in 
the day we stopped for a cup of coffee and 
took advantage of the wait to shave and 
wash. This somewhat necessary function 
was followed by supper of bully beef and 
by a general onslaught on a tree loaded with 
small, hard green apples. It can be truth- 
[67] 



fully said that the stomachs of no other army 
in the world can successfully get away with 
a combination like that. 

Night descended at last and as everybody 
was pretty well tired out with the long 
bumpy ride, we once more attacked the 
problem of passing the night in compara- 
tive comfort. The series of bitter disputes 
of the previous evening had resulted in a 
better understanding of how to distribute 
ourselves on the floor and the ensuing night 
was marked by very few of the loud and 
picturesquely worded conversations which 
had added so much joy to our life during the 
first few hours of our journey. 

Morning disclosed to us a countryside 
in sharp contrast to that through which we 
had rolled and bumped the day before. 
Instead of the placid meadows and hillsides 
a panorama of deep gorges and wooded slopes 
unrolled itself to us as we dangled our feet 
from the doorway or craned our necks from 
the windows at the side of the car. One 
of those inevitable rumors, born in the idle 
mind of some K. P. or dog robber, reached 
us to the effect that we were nearing the 
Italian border. It gained strength when 
certain individuals of Italian birth confirmed 
it, adducing as proof the fact that the sky 
was a much deeper blue than that of the 
[68 1 



preceding day, but died an untimely death 
when we passed through Chaumont, the 
headquarters of the A. E. F. Now at last 
we knew something about where we were. 
We had passed out of the land of "gold 
flake" cigarettes and had arrived in the 
"Bull Durham" sector. 

Things began to look more homelike now. 
American soldiers in real honest-to-gosh 
O. D. began to appear in little groups around 
the stations; American trucks boomed along 
the roads driven by American drivers and 
urged on by American profanity, and once 
we passed a regular Yankee baseball dia- 
mond — a sight which stirred us almost as 
much as a free-lunch counter would have. 
Occasionally a train laden with doughboys 
passed us amid shouts of "Hello Buddy, what 
outfit?" "Throw away them damn packs; 
they won*t be any use to you where you're 
going," and other cheerful remarks. Once 
we passed a swarm of German prisoners 
laboriously shoveling sand, and rubbered at 
them with a curiosity which was only equalled 
by theirs, as they stared back at us with 
the bland, child-like interest of a crowd 
watching the antics of some newly discovered 
animal. Many of the senior members of 
the firm of "Me und Gott" were mere boys, 
[69] 



proof of the fact that Germany*s man power 
was at last beginning to wane. 

We passed through Langres and toward 
noon received the welcome news that our 
journey was almost at an end. Once more 
we made up our packs, which in the course 
of our two days' ride had become sadly 
dilapidated, sorted out our mess kits and 
rifles and eagerly awaited deliverance from 
the bondage of ''40 Hommes, 8 Chevaux." 
About one o'clock the train stopped and 
amid loud and repeated bellows of **all out," 
we detrained and dumped our equipment on 
the platform of the station of Jussey. 

The usual wait ensued, during which we 
stretched ourselves out in the sun and rest- 
ed, or made successful raids on a drinking 
fountain nearby, which was of course im- 
^ mediately put under guard. In France no 
'water is fit to drink until it has been made 
thoroughly undrinkable by the introduction 
of large doses of chlorine, iodine or blue 
vitriol. This results in the well-known war 
cry of the estaminet keeper, "Finish beer!" 

At last, tired and sweaty, we struggled 
into our packs and set out on our hike for 
billets. We passed through Jussey, where 
that part of the population under twelve 
years of age greeted us with wild squeals of 
welcome, and the remainder looked up at us 
[70] 



from their vin blanc with mild interest. 
We soon passed through the town, however, 
and were out in the country with only the 
dusty roads ahead of us. 

The hike which followed was one of those 
things which must be seen to be appreciated. 
The stifling heat, the clouds of dust stirred 
by hundreds of pairs of tired feet, the grind- 
ing weight of our packs, the grunts, groans 
and curses, the stragglers who dropped at the 
roadside and the non-coms who exhorted 
them to stick it out for God's sake, are all 
the things which cannot be described in 
language fit for publication. Suffice it to 
say that at last after reeling off some seven 
miles of dusty road we arrived in the village 
of Barges, and saw awaiting us that sight 
which is the most cheering of anything in the 
world to that part of the A. E. F. which tours 
France by the hobnail express — the billeting 
detail. So this part of our story ends happily 
with a supper of steak and potatoes and a 
bunch of tired bucks resting luxuriously on 
the straw in various barns and sheds. 



[71] 



CHAPTER VI 

Training in American Sector 

A day-to-day chronicle of the doings of 
Company '*E" in Barges would be a some- 
what tedious affair. So perhaps a description 
of the various phases of our life in that typical 
rural community may suffice to give the 
reader some ideaof how one unit of the A. E. F. 
spent its time waiting for the orders which 
were to start it on its long journey to the St. 
Mihiel front. 

Barges is a pleasant little village ringed 
about with wooded hills. It possesses one 
estaminet, where vin rouge, of a quality war- 
ranted to make a rabbit spit in a bulldog's 
face, is sold; one store which does a thriving 
trade in canned goods and odorous cheese; 
one cheese factory and a number of inhabit- 
ants whose prosperity and social standing is 
indicated by the relative size of the manure 
piles in front of their doors. Its streets are 
narrow and winding, and down them, when 
the morning sun tints the walls of the old 
stone dwellings with a delicious crimson, 
amble big soft-eyed cattle, driven by milk- 
maids who have apparently stepped right out 
[72] 



of a musical comedy. There are big stone 
wash houses where from morning till night 
the village gossips discuss their neighbors 
affairs over the piles of soiled linen, and there 
are eggs and milk in abundance; and there are 
also mademoiselles who are perfectly willing 
to be inflicted with the peculiar brand of 
French spoken by the A. E. F. In short, 
Barges is just a quiet little French town of a 
type grown familiar to us, but friendly and 
hospitable beyond anything we had known 
hitherto. 

We were billeted here and there about the 
town, in various barns and outbuildings, and 
being by this time pretty well schooled in the 
art of making ourselves comfortable, settled 
down like the old campaigners we were not. 
Our rations were good and an issue of Bull 
Durham descended upon us like a blessing 
from heaven. Furthermore we were paid, 
something which had not happened to us for 
some time, and needless to say, there was 
revelry by night and court-martial in the 
morning. During the long hot days we were 
drilled and drilled, bayoneted some thou- 
sands of imaginary Dutchmen, perfected our- 
selves in the mysteries of the "small box 
respirator," skirmished over the same hard 
fought field a hundred times and endured the 
mental horrors of inspection. They were 
[73] 



days piled with hard work, but pleasant days 
for all that and in the months to come, we 
were often to say with heartfelt longing, 
"Gee, I wish I was back in Barges." 

On the morning of the 28th, word suddenly 
came that we were to move. We didn't be- 
lieve it at first, for hadn't we just started to 
build a bayonet range? But this rumor 
proved true, and about 2:00 P. M. we moved 
out bag and baggage to the accompaniment 
of cries of "Bonne chance!" from the inhabit- 
ants. Once more the long dusty road wind- 
ing away over the hill and dale — a veritable 
long, long trail indeed; once more the sore feet 
and the aching shoulders, the fifty minute 
hike and the ten minute fall-out; once more 
the bustle and confusion of making camp — 
this time in an open field near Beaucharmoy, 
after night and a drizzly rain had fallen. This 
was our first experience of making camp at 
night and for the first time rang out a dis- 
gusted howl of "T'hell with pitching tents; 
I'm going to flop where I am!" We had 
covered sixteen miles that afternoon and 
after "Mac" had served us with a mess kit 
of slum, we laid down and went to sleep with 
but very little ceremony. Ten minutes 
after the last argument over "seconds" had 
been settled (MacDonald winning on points) 
there was not a sound in the camp, but the 
[74 1 



tread of the sentries and the occasional neigh 
of a restless horse. 

Next morning we awoke and after stretch- 
ing ourselves and indulging in a small section 
of bacon, rolled up our packs and prepared to 
hit the trail again. Right here should be 
mentioned the fact that from now on packs 
began to mysteriously decrease in size. This 
will always be one of the unexplained mys- 
teries of the war. 

Canteens were filled — that is those of us 
who were wise enough filled them — and at ten 
o'clock we moved out and the longest day's 
hike we ever experienced in France began. 
It was cloudy when we started, but toward 
noon the sun came out in all its splendor 
or brutality, whichever way you want to put 
it, and from then on, it was at least fourteen 
degrees hotter than a locality frequently men- 
tioned in the Bible and ordinary conversa- 
tions. Hour after hour, we pounded wearily 
over the road, the well known overseas cap 
performing its function of making it easier for 
the sun and harder for the army, and all 
down the long column, black curses poured 
from the lips of the boys whose most violent 
exclamation had hitherto been *'darn it" or 
"gosh." Those lucky individuals who had 
been favored with early advantages in the 
study of English in bar rooms and lumber 
[75] 



camps sometimes talked about the heat for 
as much as five minutes without repeating 
themselves — talked about it eloquently and 
beautifully too — and continued to talk for the 
duration of the march. Man after man fell out 
overcome by the heat and refused to be 
spurred to action by the assertion that "we 
ain't got far to go!" 

So the long afternoon wore away. Twilight 
found us limping wearily into Brainville after 
a hike of over twenty miles. Brainville, or the 
greater part of it rather, is situated on a hill 
and be it recorded and remembered that the 
Top Sergeant was moved to accept the aid of 
the tail of a homeward bound cow in ascend- 
ing that same eminence. We made short 
work of the job of finding billets, and after 
supper which (although it consisted largely of 
corned willie), tasted good to a tired man, we 
went to sleep without any trouble on straw 
or stone floor. 

We remained at Brainville from August 
30th until September 4th, during which time 
we applied ourselves again to that interesting 
pastime known informally as ''squads east 
and west." In the intervals not taken up 
with this popular sport, we played havoc 
with all the plum orchards in the vicinity or 
wandered around visiting friends in other 
regiments. It was at this time that Sgt. 
[76 1 




^^x 



Ulhen OuLyih came into 
our fiepyfs 



Greenman left us to attend 3d Corps Train- 
ing School. 

Our rations were uniformly good while we 
were here, and altogether we put in quite a 
pleasant three or four days, except for the 
above mentioned "squads east and west" 
and frequent tricks of guard duty. Brainville 
itself was a sort of dingy dilapidated village 
clustering about an old church which perched 
itself on the summit of a hill. The ratio 
of estaminets to houses was somewhat smaller 
than in most French towns, the only one of 
any pretensions being located down by the 
railroad track. It boasted of a mechanical 
piano and some of the worst wine in the 
world. 

It should be mentioned that at Brainville, 
that peculiar substance known as "dubbin" 
came into our hearts and at every one of the 
frequent inspections the following dialogue 
took place: "Private so and so, did you put 
dubbin on your shoes? No sir! Did you hear 
the order.? Yes sir! Sergeant take that man*s 
name!" Meanwhile visions of a street clean- 
ing detail floated before the eyes of he of 
the dubbinless shoes — visions which usually 
bore fruit. 

On September 4th, having built an incin- 
erator and made other preparations for a long 
stay, we suddenly received orders to move. 
[78] 



Amid loud complaints, for it was near supper 
time, we went through a process mentioned 
several times before and in due season fell in 
on the village street. There we waited until 
ten o'clock, making the night hideous with 
song and engaged in speculation as to where 
we were going. We mentioned nearly every 
known country in the world except Siam, 
which was an oversight much to be regretted. 
There was no particular reason why Siam 
should have been slighted. 

At eleven o'clock we obeyed the command 
of ''Fall in" and slinging our rifles, moved out 
in the rear of '*D" company. It was our first 
night march, and a night march is an alto- 
gether different matter from a hike made in 
the daytime. In the daytime, however hot 
or dusty or rainy it is, there are always little 
villages to pass through and bewhiskered vil- 
lagers to yell at and mademoiselles to wave to; 
but at night, everything is blotted out but 
the white strip of road ahead. The little vil- 
lages are dead and silent for fear of air raids, 
and the only sound is the rumble of the wagons 
ahead or the roar of a motorcycle as it rushes 
past. There is no singing or smoking and 
conversations die out or are limited to ques- 
tions about the time and remarks about the 
weight of the pack. 

179 1 



At 5:00 A. M. we made camp in a field 
near Harreville-les-Chateurs. Next morning 
dawned cold and rainy and during the all-day 
drizzle which ensued, we lay in our tents and 
slept. After supper, we broke camp and 
waited for the orders to move out again. As 
night fell and the stars came out over the 
wooded hilltops the regiment uplifted its 
voice in song. According to the war stories 
you read (written by old maids and members 
of the Home Guard), they should have sung 
**Just before the Battle Mother" and songs of 
similar nature. A strict regard for the truth 
however, compels us to record the fact that 
the heavens rang with **As we go Marching,'* 
"The Roaring Engineer" and the beautiful 
ballad which begins: 

"We got mice in our billets, lice in our straw. 
The cooties that crawl on us have no 
regard for law." 

Down the line the songs echoed, old songs 
and new songs known only to the army. So 
the time passed until ten o'clock when we 
crawled into our packs and trudged off into 
the night again. It is needless to describe 
the hike minutely, its only outstanding 
feature being that we passed through the 
sizeable town of Neufchateau. According to 
history, Joan of Arc once passed through this 
city with her papa, having been turned out of 
[80] 



house and home because of the old man's in- 
ability to keep up the rent. At four o'clock 
we made camp in a wood to the accompani- 
ment of bull-like roars of *Tut out them 
lights!" 

The following day was spent in the usual 
way the day after a night hike is spent — that 
is in sleeping, smoking and grumbling. In the 
course of the afternoon, Joe Tremba fell in 
with several Russian soldiers and judging 
from the enthusiasm with which he greeted 
them, they must have come from his home 
town, for the air was filled so thickly with 
Russian for a time, that several men took 
cover as a precaution against shrapnel. It is 
also worthy of note and record that we 
showed our generosity and incidentally our 
innocence by bestowing much Bull Durham 
on passing French soldiers — an act for which 
we later cursed ourselves. At the present 
writing we part with it for one franc per sack. 

The day dragged itself out finally, and at 
nine o'clock the road and the Top Sergeant 
again beckoned to us and we set out on what 
proved to be the last stage of our journey. 
Toward midnight, we arrived in the little 
village of Valincourt and after clambering up 
the inevitable hill, which always seemed to 
greet us at the end of our hikes, made camp 
in a plum orchard. Tired as we were, we 
[811 



were amused and actually laughed when Sgt. 
Heath after inquiring wearily of the billeting 
detail if this was really the place where 
Company E was to take up its abode, issued 
this informal command: ** Attention men! 
Pick out a soft place and flop!" Needless to 
say we flopped. In the old days we "took 
interval to the right" and pitched tents 
while the Sergeants squinted anxiously down 
the line until the tents were arranged in a 
perfect geometrical pattern. But those days 
were over and from now on, our soldiering was 
to be distinctly of the rough and ready 
variety. 

We stayed in Valincourt four days — days 
that were largely taken up with consigning to 
the salvage dump, regimental equipment that 
was not needed. It was here that the first de- 
tachment of "cooties" made their appearance 
in the first platoon; and to a good many of us 
the place where we camped has always been 
known as "Cootie Hill." It was here also 
that we received our first issue of iron rations, 
on which occasion Pvt. Quinn, out of the 
wisdom born of several years in the army, 
gave vent to the following prophecy which 
was to be abundantly fulfilled in the future: 
"Well from now on I suppose the cry '11 be — 
Somebody stole my corned willie!" 
[82 1 



Of course by this time it was apparent to 
all of us that we were destined for something 
a little more serious than ''squads east and 
west" and so we were hardly surprised when 
on September loth, we received the familiar 
order to roll packs. Where we were going we 
had no idea, although some of the boys still 
clung to the wild thought that we were 
headed for Italy. The rumor that we were to 
ride in lorries had penetrated into camp, and 
since up north, on the English front, every- 
body from Thomas Atkins the British soldier 
to One Lung the Chinese laborer, seemed to 
be transported by this means — while we 
usually hiked — we were filled with pleasant 
anticipations. At least, we weren't going to 
hike! Within the next few hours, we were 
to learn that there are worse things than 
hiking. 

Shortly after dinner we made up our packs 
in a drizzling rain and fell in. The drizzle soon 
increased to a dov/npour and by the time we 
had reached the main road to the town of 
Chatenois we were all in a very moist con- 
dition. On that day many of us contracted 
a violent dislike for water. 

We had not gone very far up the road be- 
fore we found that the rumor about the 
lorries was true. There they were, crowded 
tailboard to radiator in a column that 
[83 1 



stretched away down the rain-soaked road as 
far as the eye could see, and by each one 
stood a chattering Chinese driver. On we 
plodded through the rain and mud, with the 
water squelching in our shoes and a steadily 
deepening conviction that the particular 
trucks that were destined to convey the 303rd 
were somewhere on the other side of France. 
It could hardly have been as far as that, but 
we all felt as if we had covered about five 
miles before we finally halted beside a truck 
and a grinning Chinaman ushered us in. We 
stowed our rifles under the seats and our packs 
wherever we could — mostly on the floor 
where everybody walked on them. 

There were eighteen men in a truck and 
things were more or less crowded, to put it 
mildly. Everybody's legs were mixed up 
with everybody else's and if anyone got up 
to change his position, he usually stepped on 
someone and was told about it promptly and 
forcibly. About the first thing most of us 
did was take off our shoes and empty out a 
couple of pints of water apiece. After this 
necessary proceeding had taken place we 
relapsed into profanity until a series of violent 
jars, accompanied by a stream of high pitched 
Chinese announced that our journey had 
begun. Slowly we jolted over the roads. 
The drizzling afternoon faded away into 
[84 1 



twilight while we sat and watched the dreary 
landscape slide past. Talk finally died down. 
You can't swear even at the weather indefi- 
nitely. The best vocabulary has its limits. 
So we ate a little corned willie and by the 
time night finally blotted out the muddy 
road and made ghostly and indistinct the 
rows of trees that bordered it and turned the 
trucks that followed ours into formless, 
rumbling monsters, there was not a sound 
except the steady splash of rain or an occa- 
sional sputter of conversation among the 
Chinamen. Now and then the column 
stopped with a jarring and grinding of brakes 
and occasionally when this happened, little 
glows of light by the roadside gave notice 
that the Chinks were seeking comfort in their 
beloved "hop." This, however, didn't seem 
to prevent them from asking us at frequent 
intervals for a "cigalette." 

Sleep except in fits and starts, was prac- 
tically impossible, so there was nothing to do 
but smoke cigarettes and make the best of 
things. The pouring rain had turned the 
roads into a treacherous sea of mud and the 
little French trucks slewed from one side of 
it to the other like very unseaworthy ships. 
Once in a while, one went into a ditch and 
stayed there; and during the night, there 
were several collisions. We were lucky how- 
[85] 



ever, and managed by some unexplained 
means to keep in the road. 

So the night wore on. We passed through 
towns where the houses, darkened as a pre- 
caution against air-raids, loomed dark and 
ghostly like dead cities of the past. It was in 
one of these that a little incident happened 
that for a time roused us out of the troubled 
doze into which we had finally sunk. We had 
halted in what seemed to be a good sized 
town. One of the boys poked his head out of 
the rear of the truck and seeing a girl 
passing down the street called out "Bon jour, 
mademoiselle!" And back came the answer, 
wonder of wonders, in good clear Yankee 
speech: ''Hello boys!" I think we all shot up 
out of our seats about six inches and for a 
little while things became quite cheerful in 
our truck. She may have been as homely as a 
hedge fence for all I know, but I think every- 
body in that truck will always have pleasant 
memories of the voice that cheered up a bunch 
of sleepy, tired soldiers with a simple "Hello!" 

Along about ten o'clock the driver's helper 
whose principal duty seemed to be to get out 
and put a block under the wheel when the car 
stopped, crawled into the truck. We gathered 
from the motions he made, that he was cold 
and wanted to get warm, but by this time we 
were pretty well out of sympathy and all his 



entreaties were met with the response: "Get 
to hell out of here, John!" So he finally 
crawled out and probably resigned himself to 
his fate for we saw no more of him. 

As a matter of fact, those Chinamen were a 
great help to us during the night. If the 
truck lurched in the ditch or keeled over at an 
angle of forty-five degrees, we cursed the 
Chinks; if our legs got cramped or somebody 
during the process of stretching himself, stuck 
his foot in somebody's eye, we cursed the 
Chinks again; if a helmet dangling precari- 
ously from a nail descended with a loud 
clang on somebody's skull we once more 
vented our wrath on the unoffending little 
monkey-faced men. It didn't hurt them a 
bit and did us a lot of good. 

Dawn came at last, cold and rainy and 
found us still rumbling along the road. We 
stuck our heads out and wondered where we 
were, but no information was to be gleaned 
from the landscape, so we ceased to worry 
about little things and turned to the import- 
ant question of whether or not there was going 
to be any chow during the next twenty-four 
hours. Just at that particular minute, our 
chances seemed to be very slim. But while 
the argument was in progress, our journey 
suddenly came to an end. The column halted 
and the Chinaman who had sought our 
[88] 



hospitality so unsuccessfully the night before 
came to the rear end of the truck, waved his 
arms and delivered himself of that much over- 
worked word '*Fini!" 

We clambered out of the trucks and found 
ourselves on the edge of a wood. All the way 
down the road similar groups were stretching 
themselves, sorting out their packs and 
rescuing from the interior of the trucks small 
articles, such as helmets, mess-kits, shoes and 
other equipment which had become sepa- 
rated from its owners. Rifles were sorted out 
and finally the company assembled, struggled 
into its packs and proceeded down the road 
in a column of twos. As we got farther into 
the woods, we kept meeting small groups of 
Americans, mostly attired in blue fatigue 
suits, and once we passed a detail of Italian 
soldiers whose greenish uniforms were a 
novelty to us. 

At last we turned off the main road and 
stumbled down a path that was sometimes 
ankle deep in mud. Occasionally we passed a 
big American truck, heavily camouflaged with 
branches. The path wound and twisted until 
we finally came out in a clearing which gave 
us a view of a range of wooded hills in the 
distance and a few old trenches in the fore- 
ground. In the shelter of the woods we 
pitched our tents or lay down on our shelter 
[89] 



halves according to our different inclinations. 
The sun came out for a little while and dried 
us out; and after a couple of hours sleep, we all 
felt better and quite able to eat a good dinner. 
This however, couldn't be done until a detail 
had carried rations from a dump which had 
been established some distance away and set 
up the kitchen. Work such as this occupied a 
good part of the afternoon, but for all that, 
we found time to get pretty well rested up. 

When evening came the eternal question 
of ''When do we eat?" was finally answered 
by the welcome howl of "come and get it!" 
and we fell in for the one formation that is 
never missed under any circumstances. We 
never knew tomato stew could taste so good. 
Again came the order to pack up and **fall 
in on the stacks," so tents were struck, packs 
rolled and the few remaining condiment cans 
sent sailing into the bushes by the owners. 
The rations, kitchen equipment and officers 
baggage had to be loaded on the wagons and 
it was dark when we finally got into our packs, 
slung our rifles and in column of twos, struck 
out of the woods. We soon left the path by 
which we had come and in single file, picked 
our way over a path which made all the 
roads we had travelled up to this time seem 
like a ball-room fioor. It was pitch dark — not 
the darkness of night in the open where 
[90 1 



objects can at least be faintly discerned, but 
the inky blackness of a closed cellar and the 
only way we could proceed was by hanging 
on to each other's packs and by continually 
yelling at each other. Occasionally an officer's 
flashlight shone for an instant, then snapped 
out. The night was full of the noise of the 
snapping twigs as we stumbled over the rough 
pathway and as often as anyone fell there 
were remarks suitable to the occasion. 

At last the path ahead grew lighter and we 
finally came out into an open field sloping 
down to the road which wound away into 
darkness. Over the far away rim of the hills 
came the occasional distance-mufl^ed thud of 
artillery. We had heard it at intervals during 
the afternoon — sure indication that we were 
not far from the mysterious place known 
vaguely as **up the lines." Rumors had 
reached us of a big drive preparing, of artil- 
lery crammed hub to hub for thirty-five miles, 
and although most of us were ignorant of our 
whereabouts (beyond the fact that we were 
in the American sector proper) we knew that 
the 78th Division was going to have its share 
in whatever was brewing. 

We passed by the first battalion, which had 

preceded us out of the woods and halted in 

the midst of the field. There we took off our 

packs and sat on them. As it is as long be- 

[911 



tween showers in France as it is between 
drinks in the United States on New Year's 
Eve, it began to rain. There was no option 
but to get into our slickers and be as com- 
fortable as possible, which under the cir- 
cumstances was a little difficult. We were 
all glad when the long wait was at an end 
for it was midnight when we fell in again 
and made our way out on the road. 

Then the march began. One night hike is 
much like another. There are the same stops 
and starts, the same rumbling wagons, the 
same grumbling over sore feet and the same 
query of ''When the hell are we going to fall 
out?" It was pitch dark and it soon became 
necessary to send out connecting files. In the 
darkness it was difficult for them to keep in 
touch with the company ahead and at the 
same time preserve connection with the main 
body of "E" company; and more and more 
men were detailed for this purpose. Out of 
the night the shouted commands passed 
down the column and "Halt" and "Forward" 
followed each other in such close succession 
that the Sergeant barely got one command 
out of his mouth before it became necessary 
to give another. 

In all the country around us there was no 
sign of life; not a light showed nor a dog barked 
and except for the splashing of our feet as we 
[92 1 



trudged over the muddy road, it was still — 
a stillness that was abruptly broken as we 
came over the brow of a little hill after about 
three hours hike. 

It was said before that while we were 
waiting outside the woods, we had heard 
the occasional sound of artillery fire, the same 
distant grumble that we heard many times 
before and had grown to pay little attention 
to. Now, as we topped the little rise, the 
skyline seemed to burst suddenly into flames, 
and the growl of the cannon changed into a 
full throated roar — a roar that beat and 
hammered at the brain and almost deafened 
the ears. Crash followed crash and mingled 
with the red flash of the guns shone the soar- 
ing Vary lights against the blackness of the 
sky. It was the barrage, the overture of the 
first performance in France of an exclusively 
American cast. In some of the brief intervals 
when you could hear yourself think, I remem- 
ber Ed. Mahoney calling back to Cpl. Nassau: 
"Jason, do you think you'll like it up here?" 

Through the continued roar and bellow of 
the guns we plodded on up the road which 
rapidly grew worse and worse. The water was 
ankle deep at times, especially at a railroad 
crossing which recalls itself to my mind from 
the fact that it was here that one of the boys 
dropped his rifle in the mud, while trying to 
193 1 



fasten up his leggin which had come undone. 
I have often wondered just what use he'd 
have put that rifle to, if it had become 
necessary to use it and had decided that he 
might have been able to trip some Fritz up 
with it. Outside of that it was a bad bet. 

Finally we turned off the road and entered 
the fields, stringing out in single file. Ignor- 
ant as we were of where we were headed for, 
a lot of us began to think that we were 
entering the front lines, especially as the 
barrage had increased in intensity. In fact, 
we were right among the heavy artillery, a 
fact which became apparent, when after 
stumbling over the field for what seemed an 
endless space of time, we entered a woods 
again and made camp. The roar of the big 
guns was deafening here and the concussions 
fairly shook the ground. Some of the boys' 
tents were knocked flat about as soon as they 
stuck them up. 

Here in the wood, despite the noise of the 
barrage and the rain and our wet clothes, and 
the wetter ground, we lay down and went to 
sleep. We weren't very long about it either 
as I remember. For the most of us, there was 
no such thing as pitching a tent that night, 
and we made ourselves as comfortable as we 
could with our shelter halves and blankets. 
I didn't remember much after I lay down, for 
[94 1 



I must have been snoring in a very few 
minutes. 

And while we were sleeping, the doughboys 
went over the top and wiped out the St. 
Mihiel salient. But we didn't know that for 
a day or two, at least not the full par- 
ticulars and even if we had, I don't believe 
any of us would have stayed awake to cele- 
brate very long. At least not on bully beef 
and water. 



95 1 



CHAPTER VII 

In the St. Mihiel Sector 

In the morning a faint, discouraged sun 
shone through the clouds and awakened us. 
From the several puddles in which we had 
slept the night before we emerged with a 
universal yawn and took stock of our sur- 
roundings. We were in a hollow surrounded 
by wooded hills, from which at intervals 
came the flash and boom of the big guns. 
The roaring anvil chorus of the night before 
had changed to a spasmodic hammering — 
evidence that the first phase of the drive 
was over. A big naval gun only a few hun- 
dred yards from where we were camped 
gave forth periodic bellowings that shook the 
ground, but aside from its occasional Hymn 
of Hate- there was little to suggest that the 
battle was still in progress. We spent the 
day in drying ourselves out — that is, in the 
intervals when the sun shone^ — and toward 
evening received orders to make up the 
upper part of our packs in order that the 
work of breaking camp might be attended 
with as little confusion as possible. We re- 
ceived a new issue of iron rations at this 
[96 1 



time with the usual injunction not to eat 
them without orders and when night fell, 
promptly inserted ourselves into our pup 
tents with the wise intention of getting as 
much sleep as we could. Early in the even- 
ing our transportation moved out on the 
road shepherded by Sgt. Wicks, who did his 
best to drown out the still active artillery 
with violent trumpetings at his horde of 
mule skinners. 

At 2:30 A. M., aroused by the Top Ser- 
geant's well-worn whistle, we tumbled out 
and packed up again and at 5:00 left camp. 
As we passed our transportation we received 
shovels from the tool wagons and having 
secured these to our backs by various devices, 
moved out on the road, the scene of the event- 
ful march of the previous night. Compara- 
tive quiet, shattered occasionally by the 
crash of a gun, brooded over the landscape 
and it was only when we entered a little 
shell-wrecked village that we received news 
of the progress of the offensive. 

The town was crowded with soldiers who 
imparted to us the cheerful information 
that the Marines when last heard of were 
fifteen miles past their objective and still 
going strong. A wandering mule-skinner 
later increased the total of miles to twenty- 
six and an M. P. raised him by the sensa- 
[97] 



tional statement that the Americans had 
penetrated the outer defenses of Metz. The 
farther we went the wilder became the ru- 
mors and we began to wonder if the can of 
bully beef we carried could be made to 
last until we received an issue of sauerkraut 
the other side of the frontier. 

**How far are the Germans?" was the 
query addressed to a lean, angular M. P. 
who lounged against a tree at a fork in the 
road. ''Well," returned that worthy, de- 
liberately shifting a cud of tobacco about 
the size of a door-knob to the other side of 
his face, "You'll find a few hundred of 'em 
down in the next town yonder, but they're 
what you might call kind of subdued!" 

At St. Jean we unslung our packs and rid 
ourselves of the more weighty part of them, 
that is the part containing our blankets and 
extra clothing. These we placed in a pile 
and carrying light packs, rifles and shovels 
continued on our way. As we passed through 
St. Jean an ambulance lumbered by us. 
It was empty, but the floor of its interior 
and the stretchers that lined it were covered 
with a dark, unmistakable red. Heavy 
artillery drawn by tractors trundled past, 
striped with green and yellow like poisonous 
snakes and bearing on their sides such fem- 
[98 1 



inine titles as ''Dixie Girl," *'Miss Liberty" 
or **Theda Bara." 

Our way lay through hilly country over 
wretched roads by the sides of which, hidden 
by the underbrush or concealed beneath 
elaborate camouflage, peeped forth the muz- 
zles of guns of all sizes and calibers. In fact, 
the thing that impressed us most about 
that march was the amount of artillery with 
which the countryside had been packed in 
preparation for the thrust that had swept 
the salient clear of the Boche. Occasion- 
ally we passed through a partially ruined 
town crowded with water carts and G. S. 
wagons, driven by mud-begrimed drivers 
and drawn by American mules and horses, 
most of whom were of the variety known as 
crow-bait. Once in a while we came across 
a motor truck stalled in the ditch, its motor 
roaring in an effort to get free and its driver 
rending the heavens with blasphemy. 

We finally halted in a field beside the road 
where we ate a little bully beef and laid down 
for a short rest. Then we moved on again 
and halted in another field where *'F" com- 
pany, who accompanied us, proceeded up 
the road to a place where some repair work 
was needed. It was while we were here that 
we saw our first German prisoners — a mel- 
ancholy group clothed in ill-fitting uniforms 
[99] 



and shepherded by the ever-present M. P. 
One of the boys discovered a German from 
his home town of Paterson, N. J. 

As our services were not required on the 
road that day we marched back to St. Jean 
where we camped on a hillside whose slope 
was approximately forty-five degrees. Sleep- 
ing on a hill is an acquired art. After due 
consideration my advice to the beginner is 
to picket himself firmly to a tree. 

The next day, September 14th, we re- 
turned to the road and went to work on the 
all important work of repairing it. The 
sight the road presented was an unforgetable 
one. For miles and miles it was blocked 
with a close-packed jam of motor trucks, 
G. S. wagons, water carts and automobiles. 
Drivers slept complacently on their seats, 
munched their hardtack or more frequently 
engaged in that pleasant game of chance 
sometimes called African Golf, but more 
familiarly known as craps. Automobiles, 
laden with be-starred generals waited hum- 
bly behind chow wagons for the jam to 
loosen and when it did the whole torrent of 
transportation would go roaring forward 
to be dammed in perhaps five minutes by 
another tie-up. 

In a soldier's life, the first hostile shell he 
hears is always a thing to remember, and 
[100] 



it was on this day that we first heard the 
long drawn whine of shrapnel. There are 
no statistics available as to where that shell 
burst nor did we wait to gather them. In- 
stead we went into immediate retirement in a 
near by trench which was densely populated 
with others who judged it advisable to go 
away from where they were, among them a 
lieutenant accompanied by his horse. While 
we remained there arguing as to **how near 
the damn thing hit," the usual idiot howled 
*'Gas!" and obedient to the instructions 
received in training days we held our breath 
and adjusted our masks in something under 
six counts. We waited patiently for the 
cry of "all clear" while our eye-pieces blurred 
and saliva gurgled in our mouth-pieces, and 
at last came to the usual conclusion of the 
American soldier that gas is preferable to a 
slow death by strangulation in the ''small 
box respirator." Carefully removing our 
masks we found the air polluted by nothing 
worse than a French cigar in the mouth of a 
passing Poilu and thus rather undramatically 
ended our first experience of shell fire. 

During the afternoon Major Gausmann 
rode out to inspect our work. He dismounted 
and left his horse standing in a field beside 
the road. As he stood talking to Major 
Judge there came a sudden moan of an 
[1011 



approaching shell, followed by a terrific 
explosion. We had a vision of a cloud of dust 
and dirt. Our Major's horse reared convul- 
sively on his hind legs and we waited to see 
no more. When we emerged from the ditch 
we found the horse badly perforated with 
shrapnel and in a dying condition. The 
incident was closed by a bullet which put 
the animal out of its misery. 

The next day we moved camp to a woods 
near Mamey. While we were clearing a 
space for a picket line a sudden sputter of 
machine guns from overhead caused us to 
look up. As we stared, a big observation 
balloon which hung like a mammoth sausage 
over our heads suddenly burst into flames 
and a rapidly diminishing speck in the sky 
showed where some daring German aviator, 
with the consciousness of duty well performed 
was scooting for the Fatherland. Another 
speck dropped like a stone from the balloon, 
then hung and wavered in the air as the para- 
chute opened and at last drifted lazily oft 
behind a clump of trees. We closed our 
mouths which had been open for some five 
minutes and remarked in chorus, **Some 
show!" 

While in camp near Mamey we continued 
our work on the road without further inci- 
dent worthy of notice. On September 17th 
[102] 



we moved camp to Bois du Four, near Thia- 
court, the site of an abandoned German 
camp. With customary thoroughness the 
late occupants had turned this stretch of 
woodland into a veritable city of comfortable 
dugouts, roofed with corrugated iron and 
equipped with electric lights and easy furni- 
ture. There were bowling alleys for Fritzie's 
recreation and beer gardens for his intoxica- 
tion and a neat well-kept cemetery for him 
when his work of spreading Kultur was over. 
The lanes that wound through the forest 
were marked with signboards bearing the 
resounding names of "Kaiser Wilhelm 
Strasse" or *'Kron Prinz Strasse," and the 
like. On one of these some Yankee had 
scrawled "Pershing Avenue — Now and Ever." 
In their hurried retreat the Germans 
had left behind large quantities of all kinds 
of ammunition as well as a few pieces of 
artillery and machine guns. They had also 
abandoned all kinds of engineering supplies, 
corrugated iron, barbed wire, picks, shovels 
and tools of all description. The presence 
of such a wealth of military stores is in itself 
a crushing denial of the characteristic Ger- 
man statement that the St. Mihiel salient 
had been abandoned for purely strategic 
reasons. 

[ 104 1 



This captured Home for Aged and Decrepit 
Huns now bristled with the muzzles of the 
guns of the artillery who jointly occupied 
the woods with us. We found them to be 
a fine set of fellows and aside from a slight 
disagreement when we tried to appropriate 
corrugated iron from the roofs of their offi- 
cers' dugouts to those of our own, got on 
with them very well indeed. 

When we first moved into the Bois du 
Four we made our camp in a patch of woods 
so thickly choked with underbrush that the 
use of bolos was necessary in order to clear 
a place to pitch a tent. At night gas-guards 
were stationed around the camp with rat- 
tles, which, when provoked into action, 
emitted fiendish noises calculated to arouse 
the soundest sleeper. No night passed with- 
out the prolonged and frequent use of these 
instruments. A gas alarm usually starts 
in the following manner: A shell explodes 
near somebody's dugout. The gas guard 
sniffs a'nd smells something peculiar. (You 
usually do near the front). It may be a 
dead horse in need of immediate burial or a 
pair of socks in equal need of cremation but 
his not to reason why. With all the strength 
of his lungs he bawls '*gas!" and makes the 
night hideous with his rattle. The next 
guard takes up the cry and the next and 
[105] 



next, and in five minutes the surrounding 
country is filled with hellish clamor and with 
perhaps half a division struggling into masks. 

Daily we continued our back-breaking 
work on the roads. The scene of our labors 
was now in the town of Regnieville. Once 
upon a time Regnieville was probably a 
pleasant enough little village but the ham- 
mering of four years of warfare had left it 
a disjointed heap of ruins. A lack of stone 
forced us to use most of what remained 
on the roads so the few remaining walls of 
Regnieville were pulled down and utilized 
to make life easier and speech less profane 
for the constant stream of traffic that moved 
ever toward the front. 

North of Regnieville the Germans had 
contrived an ingenious trap to halt the first 
rush of supplies and ammunition to the front 
line. The road had been excavated to a depth 
of fifteen or twenty feet and the cavity thus 
made, bridged with a flimsy structure of 
boards. This when covered with dirt gave 
the appearance of a perfectly solid road bed. 
It became necessary to construct a solid 
road around this" trap, which, it may be 
mentioned, did not work. This was in it- 
self a work of no little difficulty as the trucks 
which constantly passed over the road had 
[106 1 



turned the detour into a foot deep slough 
of mud. 

In fact, the whole surrounding country 
literally teemed with similar devices for 
delaying the advance of pursuing troops. 
At a short distance from the laboriously 
constructed false road already mentioned, 
a twisted mass of metal showed where a 
"tank trap" had done its work. The fields 
were littered with hand grenades, some of 
which when picked up were found to be at- 
tached to mines which exploded with disas- 
trous results. Gathering souvenirs was also 
a hazardous pastime, the peculiar German 
mind being fertile in inventions designed to 
blow the too-curious Yankee into Kingdom 
Come. 

Work on any road in the neighborhood of 
the front is often monotonous, but seldom 
altogether without incident. The constant 
procession of motor trucks which roar past; 
the laboring ration wagons and water carts 
which toil by drawn by that useful and some- 
times blood-thirsty animal, the government 
mule; the groups of soldiers, unshaven, 
tired and dirty who filter back from the 
lines for a few days' rest, all form an ever- 
changing picture which attracts the eye. 
Once in a while a group of prisoners, either 
captured at the front or discovered hiding 
[107] 



in a dugout, flocked past us. Amid one 
such group trudged an old woman, haggard 
and careworn, ill-clad and sorrowful, with 
a basket on her back containing her pitifully 
few possessions. Beside her a little girl 
limped painfully along. A man laden with 
a heavy bundle completed the trio — three 
generations released from the oppression of 
the German invader. 

So day after day the work went on. Dur- 
ing this time we suffered our first casualties. 
Private Ryall Gibbs was wounded by shell 
fire on September 14th and on September 
19th Private Eugene Lefeve, familiarly known 
as 'Trenchy" was also slightly wounded by 
shrapnel. At this time also Lt. Hawk, who 
had gained for himself the respect and esteem 
of every man in E company, was transferred 
to the yth Engineers, while Lt. King and 
Sgt. Swan left us to take up liaison work with 
the 309th Infantry. 

On September 22nd we moved our camp 
to the side of a hill, overlooking a narrow 
gauge railroad which had been partially 
destroyed by the retreating Germans and 
was now being rapidly repaired by American 
Engineers. Here we constructed dugouts or 
rather shacks, out of whatever material came 
to hand. It is safe to say that no two of 
them were alike. Some were real dugouts 
[ 108 ] 



with roofs entirely covered with earth, but 
the majority were mere shanties, whose roofs 
and sides were of corrugated iron taken from 
the shrapnel proof trenches with which the 
Bois du Four was seamed and criss-crossed. 
It was no easy matter to free these sheets 
of iron from the layers of dirt and stone 
with which they were covered and drag 
them perhaps a quarter of a mile to camp. 
As is always the case there were loud dis- 
putes over the ownership of building ma- 
terial and the mournful wail of the unlucky 
buck who **left three sheets of that there iron 
right here when I went to mess — an' now 
where is it?" was heard with a frequency 
which grew tiresome. 

Our food consisted of bacon and bread for 
breakfast with an occasional dab of rice; 
for dinner either stew or that grand old 
standby, corned beef; for supper ''stars and 
stripes" (otherwise known as beans), coffee, 
black and strong of course accompanied 
every meal. On occasional red letter days 
we had steak or roast beef or perhaps pud- 
ding, while prunes, of the good old boarding 
house variety appeared frequently on the 
bill of fare. At this time a new system of 
"feeding the animals" was adopted, the 
different platoons falling in for mess in rota- 
tion. The platoon which was first in line 
[109] 



had the privilege of falling in first for sec- 
onds — if there happened to be any. 

Canteen supplies — cigarettes, smoking to- 
bacco, chewing gum and canned fruit, were 
sometimes obtained in limited quantities 
and a canteen was opened on the hill above 
camp, where those of us who were lucky 
enough to get there first could purchase those 
coveted luxuries. Sometimes we received 
an issue of cigarettes and Bull Durham and 
once a Y. M. C. A. girl appeared mysteriously 
out of the unknown and made cocoa for us. 
Aside from this one instance we saw very 
little of the Y. M. C. A., no workers of this 
organization being attached to our Regiment. 
A couple of boys, hearing a wild tale of a 
"Y" located at Thiacourt tramped up there 
one day. Upon encountering heavy shell fire 
they turned around and footed it trippingly 
for camp and thereafter went no more to 
Thiacourt unless duty called them. 

The weather varied from rainy to rainier, 
with infrequent sunshiny days. On days 
when the sky was clear aeroplanes swooped 
and darted far above the treetops. Some- 
times a plane returning from the lines drop- 
ped a dart bearing a message for the artil- 
lery and its receipt was usually acknowledged 
by the grumble of the guns. Fritz occasion- 
ally shelled unpleasantly near our camp on 
[110 1 



which occasion we spent a few anxious 
moments in our dugouts. Lights were forbid- 
den after supper and even the flare of a match 
was sufficient to call down on the offender 
the wrath of the First Sergeant. 

As the last days of summer were succeeded 
by those of autumn, the weather grew colder 
and we were issued a third blanket together 
with our long-lost overcoats. Some of us 
installed stoves in our dugouts which were 
not of much benefit to us, as we could not 
light a fire in them at night. One of them 
blew up one morning with a roar like that 
of a high explosive shell. In fact the only 
benefit we derived from the labor of dragging 
these rickety affairs out of their former rest- 
ing places in German billets was the satis- 
faction afforded by being able to toast a little 
bread occasionally. 

Although we were within a mile or two of 
the lines. Reveille was still a regular morning 
function, absence from which meant extra 
detail. Great was the delight of the ''bucks*' 
when several sergeants missed this popular 
formation one morning and spent the day 
laboring in a ditch in consequence. Rifle 
inspection also took place and added to the 
joy of life by necessitating a little extra work 
every afternoon after we returned from the 
road. Life was no glad, sweet song even 
[111] 



if we were in a comparatively safe position, 
that is if any place within range of Fritzie's 
able and active gunners could be called safe. 

Regimental guard was another affliction 
which descended like a crown of thorns upon 
the heads of the rank and file. The posts 
were many and far apart and were usually 
located in some impenetrable thicket where 
the corporal of the guard with his relief was 
wont to flounder in distracted search of the 
sentry, who was usually engaged in rending 
the heavens with queries as to why he was 
not relieved. By the time a relief was posted 
it was usually time for the first sentry relieved 
to go on post again. 

No account of our activities in this front 
would be complete without reference to the 
constant succession of rumors which every 
day made the rounds of the dugouts. It 
must be borne in mind that at the front all 
rumors are supposed to be "official dope." 
Mr. Edison's gas and the Invasion of Italy 
having been abandoned, the rumor mongers 
concentrated their energies on a terrible 
barrage which was to last seventy-two hours 
and was apt to start any minute. We 
listened for it in vain. This particular 
bubble having burst, were our leading fic- 
tionists discouraged? Not they! A cap- 
tured German officer had offered a hospital 
[112 1 



orderly one hundred dollars for every shot 
fired after midnight of a certain date. We 
remember that night well and often wonder 
where that product of militarism gets his 
cigarette money now. 

Occasionally we got hold of a copy of the 
New York Herald which gave us some inkling 
of how things were really going at the front. 
It is a peculiar fact that nobody knows less 
about the progress of a war than the men 
who are engaged in the operation. Most 
of the rumors, however, revolved around 
the probable date of the Division's departure 
for somewhere else. According to the pessi- 
mists we were to remain where we were and 
live a sort of Esquimau-like existence during 
the following winter. On the other hand 
the more optimistic liars held that, the war 
being nearly over, we were to march merrily 
to a seaport, there to receive our campaign 
hats and wait for the boat. 

The news of Bulgaria's surrender, the first 
authentic bit of information we had re- 
ceived in some time, was hailed with general 
rejoicing. For the first time items began to 
appear in the paper indicating that the 
Central Powers' house of cards was upheld 
largely by twospots and that Austria's de- 
fection was imminent. Visions of a Christ- 
mas dinner in the States began to float before 
[113] 



our eyes and once in a while some hard-labor- 
ing buck was heard to mutter over his shov- 
el: **No ma, I can't eat any more turkey." 
Our activities were not entirely confined 
to road building as we put in several hard 
days' work at paving a water point, building 
a bathhouse and camouflaging, besides sal- 
vaging much barbed wire, stakes and engin- 
eering material from the deserted German 
trenches. Finally when on the noon of 
October 3rd we returned from work, we 
received orders to stay in our quarters that 
afternoon. At once we knew that something 
was up and were not surprised when toward 
evening orders came to pack up and prepare 
to move. 



[114 



CHAPTER VIII 

In the Meuse-Argonne Sector 

At about 10:30 P. M. October 3rd, we took 
our last look at our homes of corrugated 
iron and after a small-sized riot over a box 
of hardtack which couldn't be taken along, 
filed silently out of the Bois du Four and 
down the quiet, ghostly road. Our route 
lay through Limey, with its gutted houses 
and empty streets where not even the bark 
of a dog greeted our entrance. Save for the 
presence of a lone M. P. the town was as 
empty as a shell. On and on we marched 
through the darkness, past ruined villages 
and darkened fields where hills and ruins were 
silhouetted against the distant horizon, lit 
up every now and then by flashes of artillery 
and Vary lights, until about 4:30 A.M., when 
the column halted in the Bois de la Reine. 
The next morning we slept late and were only 
aroused by the fragrant whiff of Bottinelli's 
slum, which brought us up to the kitchen at 
double time. 

All day long we basked contentedly in the 
shade of the big trees, talking, smoking 
and listening to the familiar strain of the 
[115 1 



Regimental Band. It sdunded good to hear 
**The Darktown Strutters Ball/' **The Stars 
and Stripes Forever/' "A Baby's Prayer at 
Twilight" and other old favorites. And 
best of all, at night we lay down and slept a 
sleep undisturbed by the bellow of the panic 
stricken guard. 

The following day we received a much- 
needed issue of new clothing and shoes, and 
in the afternoon struck tents, rolled packs 
and left the Bois de la Reine. We hiked 
twenty miles that night and camped on a 
hillside overlooking the ruined village of 
Mecrin. So tired were we that only the 
confirmed hash-hound limped down the hill 
to the kitchen to get a bucket of slum and a 
cup of coffee before turning in. We awoke 
in the morning to find the streets of Mecrin 
echoing to the tread of the Infantry. For 
hours the column of muddy olive drab wound 
through the town, the faces of the men 
seamed with weariness and their rifle butts 
still caked with the clay of the trenches. 
Many of them twirled German canes and 
once in a while an officer stalked by clad in a 
gorgeous fur overcoat which was obviously 
not of U. S. issue. Some of the companies 
were pitifully few in numbers, for shrapnel 
and machine guns had taken a heavy toll up 
beyond Thiacourt. 

[116] 



I 



About noon a commissary truck rolled into 
town and halted only a short distance from 
our kitchen. Amid the cries of **Watch 
my mess kit," and **Lend me five francs" 
the cooks were left with poised ladles as a 
confused mob forsook the mess line and 
clamored around the tail-gate where two 
perspiring Q. M. privates dealt out candy, 
jam, cigarettes and cigars. All day long 
the attack kept up and only the departure 
of the last franc put an end to the onslaught. 
By the time we finally pulled out of town 
in the early twilight of an October day our 
packs were decorated fore and aft with 
dangling cans of jam, candy and cigars until 
we looked like walking confectionery stores. 

During one of our hourly fall-outs, as we 
sat panting and cursing by the roadside 
there reached us the sound of distant cheer- 
ing. It grew louder and louder until "D" 
company of our own Battalion up ahead of 
us took it up and we began to wonder audibly 
what the Hell had happened. "Official 
Telegram. Austria accepts peace on Presi- 
dent Wilson's fourteen points," was the 
word passed along. Wow ! what a cheer went 
up! Tired men shook hands and danced 
in the road and if there had been an estaminet 
around that prohibitionists' paradise, no 
one knows what would have happened. 
[117] 



Everybody braced up immediately and for 
as much as two miles excited discussions of 
the big news took the place of the usual 
grumbling. But after a time we subsided 
into our usual plod, plod and such remarks 
as we made had more to do with the dura- 
tion of the hike than that of the war. 

The billeting detail which had preceded 
us had given us solemn assurance that we 
did not have far to go that night and Sgt. 
Barry, the leader of that collection of un- 
bridled imaginations, went so far out of his 
way as to come back five miles in order to tell 
us that we had only one mile to go. Billet- 
ing sergeants will have their little jokes — 
as we discovered after twenty miles of muddy 
roads. We encamped in an open field during 
a pouring rain, and as some protection against 
the elements was necessary we were forced 
to pitch tents without the aid of pins and 
poles. Sure it can be done. You carry 
a rifle and a knife, fork and spoon don't you? 

In the morning the rain ceased and the 
sun came out, reviving our drooping spirits 
and drying our dripping clothing. We made 
our packs again and loafed about most of 
the afternoon, sleeping, talking and pan- 
handling at the various company kitchens, 
whose smoke arose here and there about the 
lield. An alarming rumor spread around. 
[118 1 



''Lorries again, huh? Well, FU be (deleted 
by censor)!" It was all too true. There 
were the little French camions wobbling 
down the road in a chugging column and 
there were the little Chink drivers hunched 
up in their woolly coats. We uttered a few 
low moans and prepared for the worst. 

But our second trip by camions proved 
to be a remarkable improvement on our 
first — a circumstance which may have been 
due to the fact that, profiting by experience 
we stored our guns and packs away in a 
more systematic manner. In consequence 
although nobody had any too much room, 
there were fewer loud arguments and bat- 
tered shins. We piled into the trucks about 
five o'clock and in a few minutes rolled off 
through the gathering dusk and the dripping 
rain. We talked a little, ate a little bully 
beef, smoked a lot of cigarettes and settled 
ourselves down for an all night's ride. About 
10:30 P.M., just as we had fallen into a doze, 
the camions stopped with a jerk which almost 
precipitated us out of our seats, and a jabber 
of "Fini, Fini!" warned us that it was time 
to descend. So we clambered out onto the 
muddy road and got into our packs while 
the rain beat down upon our soggy overseas 
caps and trickled down our necks. In a 
short time the command of ''Forward" was 
[119 1 



given and we set off through the rain and 
darkness for camp. About i :oo o'clock we 
halted in a wood and threw off our packs 
and in the mud and rain laid down to sleep. 

In the morning we moved our camp to 
another part of the woods and barely got 
our tents pitched before a violent hailstorm 
beat them to the ground. ''Nice place to 
come for a rest" said the company. "Whose 
woods have we wandered into anyway?" 
It soon developed that we were near Rare- 
court on the outskirts of the Argonne — 
once more within the sound of the big guns. 
The three days we spent here may be passed 
over briefly. Rations were short, and mon- 
key meat and chicken a la Thiacourt ap- 
peared with dismal regularity on the bill of 
fare. Moved by the pangs of hunger Joe 
Tremba wandered out into the recesses of 
the forest and ate several thousand toad- 
stools. (He is still with us.) Most of us, 
however, strolled to the nearby kitchen of a 
regiment of colored engineers and bummed 
bread until the black and perspiring cook 
groaned: "If you all doan' keep away how 
I goin' to feed dese heah culled boys!" 

On the second day of our sojourn in the 

woods we received a bath at Rarecovirt. 

As the entire division was also scheduled to 

go through the baths that day, the allowance 

[120] 



of two drops of water per man which we re- 
ceived was probably liberal enough. As we 
came back the roads were choked with Ger- 
man prisoners, and we heard rumors of an- 
other big drive up in the Argonne. By this 
time the theory that we were ''going back 
for a rest" seemed to have been definitely 
abandoned. 

On the afternoon of the loth, rested and 
refreshed, we once more set the mud of the 
woodland roads squelching beneath our 
hobnails and skirting the town of Les Is- 
lettes marched ten miles to La Chalade. 
As we turned into the open field which was 
to be our camping place for the night some- 
body exclaimed, ''Looks like Coney Island." 
And so it did. Every cook and K. P. who 
possessed a candle had lit it, in a praiseworthy 
attempt to locate a suitable kitchen site as 
soon as possible and the result was a 
brilliantly lighted hillside which must have 
been visible for some miles. Cause and effect 
were not separated long. From overhead 
came the deep, full-throated drone which 
has no counterpart. 

"There the son-of-a-gun comes" was the 
cry, followed by a stampede for the nearest 
ditch. The sinister drone continued as if a 
giant bee was buzzing over our heads and 
began to be punctuated by the sharp, vicious 
[121] 



cracks of bursting bombs. The lights went 
out as if controlled by a switch and for some 
minutes the entire regiment waited prayer- 
fully for the daring aviator to finish hisjob 
and go home. At last the hum of his motor 
died away and with much relief we emerged 
from the various holes and ditches in which 
we had taken refuge and went on with our 
rudely interrupted preparations for bed. 

Happily our sleep that night was not in- 
terrupted by any more visits from Fritz and 
we awoke in the morning unperforated by 
shrapnel. About noon we broke camp and 
resumed our march. The country began to 
bear a different aspect now. Abandoned 
trenches and barbed wire entanglements 
made their appearances; a Red Cross flag 
flapped from a ruined church, and a constant 
procession of trucks and ambulances bore 
evidence to the fact that we were nearing 
the front once more. After about an hour's 
hike we left the level road we had been fol- 
lowing and toiled wearily up a hill whose 
slopes were honeycombed with dugouts and 
pitted with the scars of shell fire. From its 
summit gaunt, naked tree trunks stood out 
against the sky. All around was silence and 
desolation. This was the Argonne — the wild- 
est region of France — a cross between a vol- 
[122] 



canic eruption and a section of hell set aside 
to cool. 

We camped that night near Mountblain- 
ville in a tangled patch of woods, and on the 
following afternoon hiked to the vicinity of 
Apremont, where we made camp in an 
orchard. Right under our noses was an 
abandoned German garden, well stocked 
with potatoes, carrots, onions and all sorts 
of vegetables and some ten minutes after 
our arrival strange and wonderful stews 
were simmering over hastily built fires. 
The retreating Huns had also left behind 
them large quantities of straw which we 
rapidly transferred to the interior of our 
pup tents. 

Our four days stay here was spent mainly 
in loafing around the camp and rummaging 
the nearby German dugouts for souvenirs. 
You could find anything in their com- 
modious underground homes from a plate 
glass mirror to a detective story, while 
Fritzie's rifles, helmets and gas masks were 
as common as the most ardent souvenir 
hunter could wish. A certain amount of 
work was done on the roads, but as the regi- 
ment was momentarily awaiting orders to 
move we spent most of our time rolling and 
unrolling packs, as one false alarm succeeded 
another. At last on October 17th we broke 
I 123 1 



camp and moved to the vicinity of Chatel- 
Cheherey. We had barely unslung our 
packs when the appearance of the landscape 
was suddenly altered by a violent explosion 
which disrupted the face of the hill opposite 
our camp and precipitated a shower of 
stones and dirt upon our heads. When the 
smoke cleared away the figure of Pvt. Quinn 
was seen skimming over the landscape. 
Having become engaged in conversation with 
some French soldiers he had wandered too 
near the scene of the explosion, a mistake 
which he speedily remedied by departing 
''toute suite," carrying with him, however, 
several bruises from flying stones. The 
explosion came from a German mine which 
was set oflr" either by a time fuse or an acid 
connection. 

We had barely pitched our tents when 
orders came to strike them again and make 
up packs. At one o'clock we set out through 
the village of Chatel-Cheherey, which like 
most villages of the vicinity had been 
altered for the worse by the shells of both 
armies, and pursued our way over the hilly 
roads, littered with abandoned equipment 
and ammunition, to La Besogne. As we 
turned oflF the road and ascended the hill, 
which was to be the site of our camp, we 
received orders to proceed in single file at 
[124] 



intervals of five paces — our first intimation 
that we were under observation by the ene- 
my. 

As we were establishing ourselves in a 
gully which ran along the ridge of the hill, 
news reached us that we were going up the 
line that night to build foot-bridges across 
the Aire River. It proved to be no mere 
rumor, for after supper the company as- 
sembled, rifles were loaded and tools dis- 
tributed, and under the dim light of the 
moon we filed out of camp and took the 
road to Cheviers. A trip to the front is an 
experience never to be forgotten. The ghostly 
shell-torn road, the silent groups of machine 
gunners or doughboys, the lumbering 
field kitchens, the chugging ambulances 
and the occasional passage of a stretcher, 
borne shoulder high with a still white face 
peering out from under the blankets, all com- 
bine to stamp upon the mind an indelible 
picture of war as it is, and not as it is painted. 
Shells shrieked overhead and burst with a 
crash beside the road as the German gunners 
sought hopefully for that battered thorough- 
fare and as we entered the huddle of black- 
ened walls that were all that was left of the 
town of Cheviers, there came to our nostrils 
the sickly odor of gas. 

f 125 1 



Passing rapidly through this town we 
reached the banks of the Aire and set to 
work. For material we had to depend on 
what scattered planks and timbers we could 
find lying about. Nor when lumber was 
obtained was the actual construction of the 
bridges an easy matter, involving as it did 
the plunging into the icy waters of the stream 
and at the same time keeping one ear open 
for the screech of a shell. But heedless of 
wet and cold the boys swarmed into the 
river like beavers and working like fiends 
constructed four bridges within the short 
period of four hours. 

These bridges were from no to 139 feet 
long and were thrown across the Aire be- 
tween Cheviers and Grand Pre at intervals 
of about a quarter of a mile. Each platoon 
had its own bridge to construct, but the 
conditions encountered varied to a surpris- 
ing degree. The first platoon under Sgt. 
Heath, working in the vicinity of Cheviers 
had a comparatively easy job. Their bridge 
was constructed on the ruins of an old bridge 
destroyed by the Germans and as the piles 
remained standing the greatest difliculty 
encountered was that of disentangling plank- 
ing from the floating mass of wreckage. Nor 
did the fourth platoon under Sgt. Swan, a 
little farther downstream, experience the 
[126] 



difficulties which were encountered by the 
third and second. 

The third platoon under Sgt. Allen were 
hampered in their work by the swiftness of 
the current and the ruins of a steel bridge, 
which made it impossible to find good bottom 
for '*A" frames. That method of construc- 
tion having been abandoned after some 
unsuccessful attempts, the expedient was 
finally adopted of spiking together a raft 
two feet wide and long enough to span the 
stream. This was done on the bank and 
the flooring then floated across the stream. 
Uprights nailed at one-third points kept 
the structure in place, while to give it the 
necessary buoyancy 3 x 4's about ten feet 
long on three-foot centers were placed under- 
neath the flooring and at right angles to it. 

Farther down the stream near Grand 
Pre similar difficulties were experienced by 
Sgt. Klem and the second platoon. Here 
some sunken pontoons made work difficult 
and as these hidden obstructions rendered 
it impossible to secure good bottom the same 
method was followed as by the third platoon. 
Only in this case it was necessary to saw 
the flooring in two, float one section across, 
moor it and join the other section to it. 
Uprights nailed to the sides completed the 
structure. 

[127 1 



It would be impossible to chronicle all 
the incidents of that eventful night. The 
brief outline given above can give little idea 
of the indescribable confusion which ac- 
companies work done under cover of dark- 
ness, with salvaged material and within 
range of the artillery of an active and vigi- 
lant enemy. Throughout the long evening 
the banks of the Aire presented a scene of 
feverish activity in marked contrast to the 
stillness of the infantry in the support line 
along the railroad. In fact, most of them 
seemed rather to resent our presence as likely 
to disturb "Jerry" into unpleasant activity 
and were loud in their execrations of the 
"crazy engineers." They seemed to agree, 
however, that ours was an unenviable job 
and one doughboy in particular after ob- 
serving a shell burst dangerously near a 
couple of despised "land improvers" an- 
nounced decisively, "T' hell with that stuff; 
give me my little hole in the hill!" and started 
for the comparative safety of the front line. 
Most of us shared his desire for a hole to 
crawl in and pull in after us, for at irregular 
intervals the enemy shelled us methodically 
with high explosive and gas. In fact, so 
saturated was the river valley with choking 
fumes that it was difficult to determing 
whether you were being slowly gassed into 
[ 128 ] 



suffocation or whether it was just the normal 
state of the atmosphere. Luckily, however, 
we suffered no casualties — unless the sudden 
immersion of Sgt. Barenthaler's portly form 
in the waters of the Aire might be called 
one — and were all back in camp by 2:00 A. M. 

In concluding the account of our activities 
that evening it may be stated that the bridges 
we built may not have been works of any 
particular architectural pretensions, but that 
they abundantly served their purpose — which 
is all that could be asked of any bridge — and 
that into the details of their construction 
went a degree of ingenuity and initiative, 
which reflects credit on the entire company, 
from the officers who directed the work to 
the tired, muddy ''bucks" who trudged back 
to camp that night soaked to the skin and 
laid down to sleep in the mud of their shallow 
dugouts. 

We slept late the next morning and spent 
the day in drying ourselves and our equip- 
ment in the sun. In the evening we 
returned to Cheviers and set about the con- 
struction of a bridge capable of sustaining 
the passage of light artillery and ambulances. 
There had been a pile bridge at this point 
but the Germans had completely demolished 
it by cutting every pile with explosives about 
eighteen inches above the water line. It 
[129] 



was decided to make use of the old piles by 
cutting them all to the same height, thereby 
saving considerable time and hard work. 
Five squads were engaged in the construction 
of the bridge, one to cut the piles, two to 
prepare the approach and two to gather 
material. For a short time the work went 
rapidly forward but suddenly the rattle of 
machine guns in the woods up ahead was 
drowned by a roar as of several express 
trains approaching at full speed, followed 
by crash after crash as the shells exploded 
along the river bank. This was not the per- 
functory shelling of a road, the 'Veil I sup- 
pose this has got to be done" kind of a bom- 
bardment, but a regular old-fashioned display 
of frightfulness. Shells plunged into the 
river, burst on the banks or crashed into 
the town itself. Everything in the vicinity 
was hit but the bridge itself and so near did 
the Kaiser's artillery come to it that men 
were knocked into the river by the force of 
the concussions while guns and belts laid 
along the bank were blown to pieces. Again 
and again we were driven from the job and 
again and again we returned, but at last it 
was decided that discretion was the better 
part of valor and we returned to camp. 
We suffered two casualties that night, Pvt. 
f 130 1 



Oates being severely gassed and Pvt. Genaitis 
wounded by shrapnel. 

''Sounds a hell of a lot as if Germany 
wanted an armistice," was the general opinion 
as we drank our coffee that night around the 
field kitchen. 

That same night four squads were sent 
out to construct single span bridges across 
two small streams and succeeded in making 
a satisfactory beginning, although the work 
was not completed for some days. We resumed 
work on the big bridge the next morning 
nothing daunted by the previous night's 
experiences and were once more greeted with 
the roar of shells. Substantial progress was 
made, however, all the piles being cut to the 
required height, and the work on the 
approaches completed without casualties. At 
noon orders were received that the bridge 
must be finished before October 20th, the 
following day. 

The job was completed that night. We 
worked in shifts, each of the various details 
being sent out at different times and return- 
ing as soon as they had accomplished their 
part of the work. This course was probably 
decided upon to reduce possible casualties 
to a minimum and to avoid confusion. The 
route was also varied as much as possible. 
At 9:00 P. M. four squads were sent up to 
[131] 



put on the caps and cut the stringers. They 
were followed at 1 1 :oo o*clock by four more 
squads who laid the flooring and set the 
guard rail. For once everything worked 
just as it does in the Engineer Field Manual 
and the last detail returned to camp at 2:00 
A. M. with the welcome tidings of "Finish 
bridge." In the course of the evening no 
feet of planking was laid and spiked by four 
men in one hour. This will compare favor- 
ably with the work of any combat engineers 
in the A. E. F. Our work on these bridges 
was the result of favorable commendation 
from the commanding General: 

Headquarters, 78TH Division, 
November 14, 1918. 
From: Commanding General, 78th 

Division, 
To: Commanding Officer, 303d 

Engineers, 
Subject: Construction of the Bridges 
at Grand Pre. 
I. Please convey to the members 
of A, B and E companies of your 
regiment who worked on the bridges 
at Grand Pre, my thanks for their 
good work and my sincere compli- 
ments upon the courage and devo- 
tion shown by them in their work 
[133] 



under heavy machine gun, high 
explosive and gas shell fire. 

2. While my attention has been 
particularly drawn to the coolness 
and fortitude of these companies, 
I am not unmindful of the excellent 
and vital work done by the re- 
mainder of your regiment upon other 
bridges and roads and take this 
opportunity to make of record my 
high approval of the manner in 
which the roads, pertaining to this 
Division, were opened up and main- 
tained during the advance through 
the Argonne Forest. 

J. H. McRAE, 

Major General, 

Commanding. 

This night's work ended our activities in 
the St. Juvin-Grand Pre sector for the time 
being. We rested the next day (which 
happened to be Sunday) and on October 
2 1 St broke camp and left La Besogne. We 
left the hillside where we had camped by a 
roundabout way and thereby luckily escaped 
having several casualties, for Fritz took this 
occasion to land several shells among the 
company which was hiking to relieve us. 
Again **E" company luck held good. We 
[134 1 



hiked about eight miles that afternoon to a 
wood near Lancon which teemed with 
comfortable German billets built terrace 
fashion on the precipitous slope of the 
wooded hills. A detachment of French troops, 
however, established a prior claim to these 
luxurious quarters, and after clambering 
wearily up the hill we were forced to tumble 
ingloriously down again and pitch our tents 
beside the narrow gauge railroad which was 
to be the scene of our labors. We remained 
in Lancon four days. During this time we 
worked hard on the methodically wrecked 
railroad, putting in new rails and ties and 
reballasting the roadbed. A regiment of 
colored engineers was also engaged in the 
same work and substantial progress was 
made in putting the road in running order. 

But we were not yet done with the Aire 
River. On October 22nd the first platoon 
under command of Lt. Soden and Sgt. Heath 
left to assist "B" company in throwing 
more foot bridges across at Grand Pre. 
Grand Pre at this time, although captured 
once, was still a sort of "No Man's Land" 
where American and German patrols fre- 
quently clashed. The Germans had not 
as yet been dislodged from the wooded 
heights beyond the town, while our line ran 
along the railroad that roughly paralleled 
[136 1 



the river. This brief description of the 
existing situation is necessary to an under- 
standing of the night's events. Our way 
led through the badly battered town of Lan- 
con where German signs still stared at us 
from the tottering walls and American 
Engineers were busily engaged in cleaning up 
the debris with which the streets were choked. 
Outside the town we passed the usual pro- 
cession of mud-bespattered trucks, the usual 
casuals looking for their outfits and the usual 
M. P. who never knows the road to any- 
where. Every wooded hilltop bristled with 
guns and in the open fields hundreds of 
artillery horses cropped placidly at the 
scanty grass. 

A K. of C. truck which supplied us with a 
welcome stock of cigarettes, chewing gum 
and writing paper was the occasion of a wel- 
come halt at the conclusion of which we 
tramped off again, jaws working in cadence. 
Toward the close of the afternoon we turned 
off the road and stumbled over a muddy 
path, skirting the base of a hill from whose 
summit the big guns thundered without 
pause and at whose foot an anti-aircraft 
gun pointed its vicious nose inquisitively 
at the sky. We found **B" company com- 
fortably established in an abandoned Ger- 
man prison camp. Here we had supper — 
[137 1 



coffee, corned beef hash and bread and jam — 
and at the conclusion of our meal sat down 
to wait for darkness. After nightfall we 
marched silently out in single file loaded with 
tools, and preceded by '*B" company set 
out for Grand Pre. 

Passing through Senuc, which was crowded 
with French transport wagons, we moved in 
dead silence down the darkened road, lit 
only by the rays of a sickly moon. Once in 
awhile the flash of a gun on the horizon and a 
distant boom told of the never-ending 
mouthing of the artillery. On and on we 
went until a sudden choking sensation assailed 
our throats and a familiar musty smell 
reached our nostrils. Word was quickly 
passed down the line to put on gas masks 
and amid the confusion which such an alarm 
always occasions at night we dove into them 
and resumed our march. Stumbling and 
groping over the wretched road, loaded with 
tools and visaged like prehistoric animals 
we must have presented a sight only to be 
duplicated in a bad attack of delirium tre- 
mens. When we finally reached Grand Pre 
we crossed the railroad track and taking 
shelter behind a warehouse then doing ser- 
vice as a first aid station, removed our masks 
and wiped our foreheads. At this precise 
moment a large consignment of high explo- 
[138] 



sives arrived from the general direction of 
Germany, passing over the first aid station 
with ah angry whine and descending in the 
field beyond with a loud explosion — an in- 
cident which fitly preceded an interesting 
evening. 

Losing no time we immediately set about 
transporting **A" frames, balks and heavy 
planking to the scene of action. We crossed 
the track again and proceeded up the road 
a little way, finally turning off into a field 
as level as a billiard table and almost des- 
titute of cover. The moon emerged from 
the clouds and under its rays the tall, slender 
trees that dotted the field, the heavily burd- 
ened figures that crossed and re-crossed it, 
and even the battered roofs of Grand Pre 
stood out with startling distinctness. It 
was distinctly a peaceful scene, in appearance 
at least — but the old saying about appearance 
being deceitful was destined to prove true 
once more. 

As soon as we reached the bank of the 
river, **B" company went to work on their 
partly completed bridges while we kept them 
supplied with material from the dump behind 
the first aid station. When a sufficient sup- 
ply of lumber had been accumulated we set 
to work on a bridge of our own. About this 
time the whistle of the German shells rose 
[139 1 



suddenly to a shriller note, and from the 
river bank to the railroad and the first aid 
station the air was full of the angry crash 
of high explosive and the peevish squeal of 
shrapnel. Through this rain of shells the 
carrying detail, loaded with planking and 
"A" frames, had to pick their way, while the 
carpenters engaged in the actual construction 
of the bridges were frequently compelled to 
drop their tools and seek protection along 
the river bank. 

But in spite of the previous bombardment 
(which the official communiques would prob- 
ably call slight artillery activity) the work 
went on steadily. Our progress was hamp- 
ered by the difficulty of finding good bottom 
for the **A" frames in the muddy waters, 
but this obstacle was finally surmounted and 
by one o'clock we had the stream partly 
bridged. As *'B" company had finished its 
work about this time we collected our tools 
and hiked back by a roundabout way, skirt- 
ing the river for some distance. When we 
reached the gully where **B" company was 
camped we roused the cook who accompanied 
us and obtained a cup of coffee and a slice of 
bread and jam. Having consumed this we 
toiled wearily back to camp and arrived 
there just in time for breakfast, after twen- 
ty-four consecutive hours of work and hiking. 
[141] 



On the third day of our stay in camp 
near the narrow gauge we finally moved into 
the billets on the hillside, the French having 
deserted them and gone on their way. We 
found them to be very comfortable homes, 
equipped in some cases with stoves and bunks. 
They were built into the hillside in tiers, 
which were connected with each other by 
rickety stairways. These latter zigzagged 
up and down the hillside in a bewildering 
manner and since our kitchen was located on 
top of the hill, the usual rush for mess was 
attended by feats of agility worthy of a 
mountain goat. It was easy to become lost 
after dark in this maze of precipitous paths 
and frequently the night was rent by mourn- 
ful wails of ''Where do I live — for God's 
sake where do I live?" 

On the morning of October 26th we left 
our comfortable billets and moved back to 
La Besogne, following a roundabout route 
through the woods which finally brought 
us out near our old camp on the hillside. 
The next day the entire company went to 
work constructing a corduroy road at some 
distance from the camp. It was hard work 
felling and splitting the big trees and drag- 
ging them out to the road, but we welcomed 
it as a change from the eternal pick and shov- 
el. Aside from the arrival of an occasional 
[ 142 ] 



shell — one of which was the cause of an ex- 
citing race between Sgt. Scanlon and ''Lou- 
ie," the K. P., for shelter beneath the field 
kitchen — the next few days passed without 
incident. During this time a detail under 
Lt. King and Sgt. Morgan was attached to 
**B" company, who were still at work on 
heavy traffic bridges at Grand Pre. 

Persistent rumors of the *'big drive" 
spread throughout camp and it was evident 
from the amount of artillery concentrated 
in the woods nearby that there was something 
up. There was much air activity; duels 
between Allied and German planes were fre- 
quent and on several occasions enterprising 
Hun aviators dropped propaganda amongst 
us which painted in glowing colors the joyous 
life we would lead if we would only march 
across *'No Man's Land" chanting ''Kam- 
erad." In view of the fact that the Central 
Powers were obviously at the end of their 
rope their choice bits of literature struck us as 
a joke. 

On the night of October 31st the fitful 
growl of the artillery changed suddenly to a 
thunderous roar and we knew as we lay 
in our tents looking out at the flaming hori- 
zon that the big smash had come. As dawn 
was breaking we were awakened by the shrill 
blast of the whistle and hastily slinging on 
[143] 



our belts, rifles and gas masks took once more 
the old familiar road to Grand Pre. From 
the wooded hills in the distance came the 
continuous chatter of machine guns; against 
the graying sky artillery flares and Vary 
lights shone like the eyes of enormous wild 
cats; while ever there beat against the ear 
drum the steady hammering of the Allied 
artillery as it poured a deluge of high ex- 
plosives and gas into the German positions. 

We turned off the road just before it 
enters Cheviers and filed silently down the 
railroad track past the shallow fox-holes of 
our former support line with their litter of 
blankets, shoes and all the thousand and one 
other things which the doughboy does 720t 
take with him when he goes over the top. 
Here and there a machine gunner loafed 
beside his piece, staring discontentedly at 
the distant hills. 

We crossed the track at last and entered 
the town which the German artillery was 
systematically pounding to pieces. The air 
was full of whistling shrapnel and falling 
tile and by the time we reached the center 
of the town, the shelling became so severe 
that we withdrew to the cover of the railroad 
embankment. There we met Lt. Borneman 
and Cpl. Folsom, who with a small detail 
had been exploring the roads around Grand 
[144] 



Pre for German traps and mines since early 
in the morning, under continuous and heavy- 
fire. 

Our kitchen had arrived opportunely in a 
shelled gulley in the road near by and after 
a welcome meal of "sowbelly" and bread 
we returned to the railroad cut. There we 
crouched for a couple of hours until orders 
were received to enter the town again and 
clean the streets of the mass of debris with 
which they were choked. Shells were still 
crashing into the town, but in spite of all 
Fritzie's efforts the men stuck doggedly to 
their jobs and completed by four o'clock the 
work of rendering the streets free of passage 
for the artillery. Our task was not accom- 
plished without casualties. Five were wounded 
by the explosion of a single shell — Sgt. 
Adams, Privates Greatehouse, Koerner, 
Harrison and Loderback. Shortly after four 
we returned to camp, leaving a detail from 
the first platoon under Cpl. Hall to patrol the 
town and repair any damage that might be 
done to bridges or roads during the night. 

On the following day we returned to Grand 
Pre and continued our work. The day 
passed without incident. It was hard to 
determine just how the drive was progressing 
from the disjointed accounts which filtered 
back from the front line from time to time, 
[145 1 



one doughboy being of the opinion that the 
78th was ''all cut to pieces," and another 
equally sure that the Huns were in full retreat. 
We returned to camp that afternoon, tired 
out and badly in need of sleep. 

But there was no sleep for us that night. 
The German line had broken at last. About 
five o'clock a runner came panting in with 
orders to advance. Amid hurry and bustle 
packs were made up once more and we hot- 
footed it toward Cheviers. Upon our arrival 
in that pleasant village we piled into motor 
trucks and rumbled away into the night, 
on the wildest joyride ever indulged in by a 
victorious army. The fields beyond Grand 
Pre were a scene of indescribable confusion. 
Infantry, machine gunners, engineers and 
men of the Signal Corps stood around in 
groups, wondering what to do next. One 
question was on everyone's lips: "Where the 
devil is Fritz?" Where was he! That was 
the question. That morning he had been 
putting up a stiff resistance and now he was 
gone. Not even a sound of a gun broke the 
stillness of the dark, rainy night as we jolted 
over the road which was jammed with trucks 
laden with reinforcements. We passed a 
mine crater which a detail under Lt. Borne- 
man was heroically laboring to bridge, and 
through the rain we plowed our way for- 
[146 1 



ward. At last the convoy halted with a 
sudden jerk and we piled out. One thought 
was in our minds; we had reached the front 
line and were going into action. Instead of 
which we about faced and marched back 
to the Bois de Loges where we camped over- 
night. 

The next day we broke camp and moved 
to a wood south of Briquenay, doing some 
road work along the line of march. The 
work was done under difficulties, however, 
owing to the heavy stream of traffic that 
was moving up the road. For the reserves 
were pouring in at last. Long columns of 
khaki crowded the fields and jammed the 
roads and every kind of motor vehicle imag- 
inable, some carrying steel pontoons or 
observation balloons, were lumbering along 
the road on the heels of the scattered 
German Army. 

After a good night's sleep we set out once 
more over the deeply rutted roads, littered 
with dead horses, wrecked trucks, abandoned 
piles of ammunition and the usual wreckage 
of a retreating army. A few deceased Ger- 
mans lent variety to the scene. Three kilos 
brought us to Authe, our farthest point of 
advance, where a white shirt fluttered from 
the church tower — a pathetic supplication to 
the Allied artillery from the few old women 
[147 1 



and little boys who inhabited the town. 
All the rest of the population, in accordance 
with a pleasant German custom, had been 
driven away to Germany like a herd of dumb 
cattle. Those who remained greeted us with 
bewildered expressions of people awakened 
from a four years' nightmare of brutal 
oppression. It seemed hard for them to believe 
that at last they were free from their gray- 
clad overlords and were once more under the 
protection of their own beloved tricolor, and 
the sight of the thousands upon thousands 
of olive drab figures that poured up the road 
toward Sedan caused them to open their 
eyes in wonder. But they greeted us warmly 
and found to their ardent satisfaction that 
the tales of American savagery told them by 
the Boche were the reverse of true. 

We were quartered in the town in billets 
vacated by the Germans, but not by the 
cooties, and spent a comfortable night's 
rest in regular **honest-to-God" bunks. As 
our ration wagon and our Supply Sergeant 
had become all tangled up in the traffic down 
around Grand Pre we were forced to exist 
on a simple and nourishing diet of bully 
beef and hardtack for a day or two, eked out 
with handouts from neighboring kitchens. 
The town was crowded with troops of all 
divisions and all descriptions, for the tide 
[148 1 



of olive drab was at flood now and even the 
stragglers who toiled along the road looking 
for their units were a respectable army in 
themselves. 

That night was marked by two forms of 
enemy activity — an air raid which did no 
particular damage, and a violent attack on 
"E" company by some thousands of German 
cooties. It is only fair to state that the 
cooties made a much better stand than 
the German Army, which had so basely 
deserted them. On the afternoon of our 
arrival we went to work building a temporary 
bridge over the river which flows past just 
outside the town. The original bridge had 
been completely destroyed, but a few hours 
hard work resulted in the construction of a 
bridge which would serve its purpose tem- 
porarily. When this makeshift structure 
had been completed we started on a heavy 
traffic bridge of more permanent character. 
Two days of hard work and bad weather saw 
the finish of the job. Meanwhile the 78th 
Division had been relieved at last and our 
own infantry had started back for their well- 
earned rest. The town was crowded with 
weary but happy doughboys who brought 
the glad tidings that so far as the 78th was 
concerned the war was over. At noon of 
November 7th the last spike was driven in 
[ 149 ] 



the bridge and we too turned our faces away 
from the lines. 

Back over the weary roads we trudged — 
carrying only light packs. It seemed like 
a return of the old days to have our blanket 
rolls carried in a truck once more. It is 
worthy of note that Pvt. Albright's equip- 
ment on this march consisted of a loaf of 
bread to which he clung with the despera- 
tion of a drowning man. We hiked some 
ten miles that afternoon, reaching the little 
village of Beffu toward nightfall. 

In the morning after a good night's sleep 
we set out once more. Strange rumors 
began to appear — rumors so utterly non- 
sensical that we greeted them with scornful 
laughter. So the war was over, huh! That 
was a good one! Nor could the stories of 
M. P.'s or stragglers dent our pessimistic 
hides. We had heard that story too often. 
But at last, conviction began to soak in. 
For if the war wasn't over why did every 
French soldier we met wear a broad grin? 
Since our arrival in France we had seen 
much of the little bearded men in faded blue 
and without exception their faces had borne 
the look of men without hope. But now 
each Poilu's face was rent with a smile which 
stretched from ear to ear and from his lips 
came the triumphant words *'Fini la guerre!" 
f 150 1 



*'If they say it's *fini' it must be!" was the 
general comment. 

We slept that night in Montbalinville 
where Lt. Breese, who had been absent for 
some time at the Engineer Training School, 
rejoined the company. Our quarters as usual 
were in an abandoned German camp and so 
comfortable were they that we hailed with 
joy the rumor that we were to rest here for a 
day or two. But on the next morning in a 
drizzling rain the regiment took the road 
again. Before proceeding far we made the 
discovery that although "la guerre" might 
be *'fini" and German delegates on their 
way to sue for an armistice, the weight of our 
packs remained the same. It was a long 
tiresome march that we made that day 
through the dripping forest with its splintered 
trees and sad crop of little white crosses, 
and we were glad when we came out at last 
into the open country. After a hike of 
about 12 miles we reached the town of Les 
Islettes where we billeted in a large mansion 
which had evidently seen better days as a 
hotel. Our kitchen was A. W. O. L. again, 
so we brazenly sought the hospitality of a 
casual kitchen whose fires flamed just across 
the road and after eating all they would let 
us, returned to our billets and slept the sleep 
which only a tired man can appreciate. 
[1511 



On the following day we received a bath 
and a change of underwear. This underwear 
when issued to us was supposed to have been 
as thoroughly purged of cooties as Grand Pre 
was of Germans when the 78th marched in. 
Like the doughboys in the latter case we 
''found out different." In the course of 
the afternoon we discovered a Salvation 
Army canteen where those of us who were 
still lucky enough to have a few scattered 
francs left, stocked up with cakes, chocolate 
and cigarettes. 

That night our slumbers were rudely 
interrupted by a modern Paul Revere, 
mounted on a spirited motorcycle, who 
dashed madly through the town yelling at 
the top of a very excellent pair of lungs, *'The 
armistice is signed!" With shouts of **Get 
off that stuff!" "Where'd you get that 
stuff?" "Take that man's name!" we rushed 
to the windows. But he was gone. From 
farther down the street came a volley of 
pistol shots, but whether the owner of the 
revolver was attempting to celebrate or 
trying to shoot the bearer of the glad tidings 
no man knoweth. Grumbling **same old 
stuff" we returned to bed. 

The joke of it all was that the report was 
true. The next day as we marched through 
St. Mennehould a K. of C. Secretary (for 
[152] 



some reason we seemed to place more reliance 
on his words than on those of any one 
else) confirmed the rumor, and if that was 
not enough a stray copy of the Herald was 
sufficient to convince the most skeptical. 
The armistice was really signed, and without 
delay Sgt. Heath hastened to collect loo 
francs from Cpl. Nassau, who shelled out 
quite cheerfully. Armistice bets, it may be 
remarked are the only class of wagers which 
are paid with a smile. After a short hike 
we reached Dampierre where we were billeted 
in a large and airy barn, whose owner was in 
a perpetual state of fear lest he should see 
his property go up in smoke before his eyes. 
Consequently we were forbidden to smoke 
in or near our billets, an order which caused 
much profanity among the cigarette smokers 
in the company (that classification including 
everybody in the outfit except the mules). 
But more trouble was in store for us. 
After two days of rest we returned to the 
toilsome grind of "squads right and left" 
and those who flattered themselves that now 
that the war was over the trials of a buck 
private were also "fini" found to their sor- 
row that the I. D. R. knows nothing of 
armistices. From the moment when the for- 
gotten strains of ''first call" brought us out 
of the straw until twilight was ushered in by 
[ 153 1 



"retreat" we drilled, drilled and drilled. 
Once more our gas masks still damp from 
immersion in the Aire River were explained 
to us; once more our rifles were cleaned and 
polished for inspection and freed from a lib- 
eral coating of Grand Pre mud; and to cap 
everything came a regimental inspection and 
review. Equipment was checked up, a pro- 
ceeding which involved many laughable 
incidents — especially when tent pins and 
poles were the subject of inquiry. No, we 
didn't exactly rest in idleness at Dampierre. 
In fact, the only thing we really enjoyed about 
our five days stay in that cold and dreary 
locality was the arrival of our August pay. 
And yet those days were not without 
their value. They brought us back to the 
old routine as nothing else could. They 
may be described as a sort of **Gold Cure" 
for the delirium tremens of the Argonne. 
By the 17th of November when we finally 
left Dampierre we had recovered from the 
excitement of the preceding month and aside 
from the presence of a few man-eating cooties 
had left behind all traces of our exciting 
experience in the St. Juvin-Grand Pre sector. 



[154] 



CHAPTER IX 

At Les Laumes 

Sunday, November 17th at 7:30 A. M., we 
broke camp and hiked with full packs from 
Dampierre to St. Mennehould, about five 
kilometers. Here we received our first shock 
from the sight of hundreds of returned French 
prisoners, released from German prison camps 
upon the signing of the Armistice just one 
week previous. Among them were a few 
women and children, refugees, who had been 
confined in towns held by the Huns and 
sharing an existence perhaps worse than the 
soldier prisoners. Their clothing and uni- 
forms generally were of nondescript pattern 
and styles, faded and patched beyond imag- 
ination. Their appearance certainly did not 
add to our appreciation of the German 
"Kultur." They were simply ghosts of their 
former selves. The Red Cross, ministering 
angel to a devastated world and synonymous 
with care and comforts in all afiiictions, was 
looking after their needs, feeding and caring 
for them until they could entrain for destina- 
tions that would place them among friends 
and relations and happier surroundings. 
[ 155 1 



We too, were not slow in introducing our- 
selves to the young American lady who spoke 
French so fluently, and before entraining, 
were well refreshed with hot chocolate and 
sandwiches. Just before "All Aboard" was 
sounded a ''Coolie" put in his appearance 
and bought a carton of cigarettes from an 
enterprising "Yank." He thought so well of 
his five-franc bargain that he sought for more 
cigarettes. Another carton was immediately 
produced and the Chinaman handed over 
another five francs, only to discover that he 
had been frisked and had bought his own 
cigarettfe,s a second time. His lamentations 
were loud and long, but to no avail. The 
old gag worked again — not one of us could 
"comprez." A freight train pulled in about 
this time with "beaucoup" straw in several 
cars and as the ride threatened to be a long 
and cold one in the famous "40 Hommes, 8 
Chevaux," we pitched in and transferred the 
straw from the late arrival to our combination 
day-coach, sleeper and dining car, the whistle 
shrieked and we were off at 11 -.45 A. M. 

Heading south, we stopped at Birnville in 
the evening, lined up on the platform and were 
issued hot coffee containing a taste of cognac. 
Why these people spoil cognac with coflFee or 
vice versa, we have been unable to determine, 
f 156 1 



Still travelling south, our engine gave a 
final spasmodic gasp at the little town of 
Chateau-Villan at 9:30 P. M. and she must 
have sat back on her haunches because, true 
to railroading methods in France, there was 
nothing done to relieve the situation until 
daylight. In peace times a soldier's appoint- 
ments are never very weighty, so one night's 
delay caused little criticism. Another loco- 
motive took us in tow while we were enjoying 
our bully beef and hardtack breakfast, so that 
at 2:45 P- ^-5 w^ arrived at our destination — 
Les Laumes, Cote d'Or, France, on Monday 
afternoon, November i8th. 

Our billeting non-com, Sgt. Jim Barry, had 
preceded us several days and wonder of 
wonders, he had succeeded in obtaining 
billets right in town. Negro engineers had 
partly finished a barracks capable of housing 
about eighty men, which we completed and 
occupied, the rest of us being put in vacant 
apartments with the townspeople as close 
neighbors. Les Laumes received us with 
open arms ?nd high prices, the latter being 
nothing new for us, and so, after months of 
life in shelter halves pitched in woods, fields, 
mud-holes, trenches, etc., the old town looked 
like heaven to us, and we minded not the 
high prices (as long as we had francs in our 
pockets). Most of the men flocked to the 
[157 1 



stores as soon as packs were unslung, and if 
the setting sun winks as mythology says it 
does, it must have winked and shook its 
head at this town whose stores were 
depleted to the satisfaction of the soldiers 
craving for sweets and to the chagrin of Dr. 
Dwyer, who doled out an extra supply of 
C. C. pills on the following morning to relieve 
several platoons of abused stomachs. Whether 
the officers suffered the fatigue and intestinal 
uprising that overwhelmed the "poor buck," 
deponent sayeth not, but be that as it may, we 
spent the next two or three days in recuperat- 
ing from our orgy. 

Then came the first days of drill, close 
order in the A. M. and open order in the 
P. M., as the war was over, all accepted this 
burden with camouflaged interest. Lt. King 
added a little attraction to our second day's 
drill by hiking the company to the top of the 
plateau in Alesia on the brow of which is 
erected a gigantic bronze statue of Vercinge- 
torix the Gaulic chieftain, revered almost 
sacredly among the many heroes of that 
historic country. This monument was erected 
in i860 during the reign of Napoleon III 
as a memorial to the men who probably 
had more to do with the history of the Gauls 
and their successors, the present French 
population, than any other one man with 
[158] 



the possible exception of Napoleon. It was 
on that very same plateau in the year 52 B. C. 
that Vercingetorix and his army of Gauls 
were forced to surrender to Caesar and his 
hosts during the Roman invasion. Much 
evidence of the Roman occupation is still 
to be seen around Alesia. A well-ordered 
museum in town contains hundreds of weap- 
ons, statuary, chariot and harness accou- 
trements, pottery and coins taken from the 
^'Diggings," from which place additional 
relics have been unearthed by curious Dough- 
boys during their regime in that locality. 
Remnants of the Roman wall around the 
old city of Alesia are still to be seen and when 
one considers the mammoth task that Caesar 
had to perform in order to dislodge the Gauls, 
one cannot help but compare the recent con- 
flict with that of the long-dead Roman and 
Gaulic warriors. Ambitions that led Caesar 
on his historic invasion and his lust for power 
paralleled with the desires of the despicable 
ex-kaiser, should be a lesson to every wide- 
awake AmeiiCan. The present day bound- 
aries of the several countries are living evi- 
dence that their ambitions were misdirected. 
Caesar lived his short span and died. The 
ex-kaiser is a man without a country today. 
Here too, in Alesia, was born and lived 
St. Reine, martyr, who because of her Chris- 
[159 1 



tian belief and refusal to marry a pagan was 
beheaded on a spot which is now the central 
part of the present town. History tells us 
that a spring gushed out on the spot of her 
decapitation, the curative waters of which 
are used to this day in a near by hospital. 
Each year during the summer a pageant is 
enacted in her memory and a beautiful 
church and monument pay fitting tribute to 
the Saint. 

Within one hundred yards of our barracks, 
at Les Laumes, there is a bridge still giving 
service which was built during the latter days 
of the Roman Empire about 840 A. D. The 
remarkable thing about this bridge is its 
utter lack of keystone. Surely those early 
artisans built well. 

We, as engineers, were naturally called 
upon to provide comforts for the other units 
of the Division so that life in the area might 
be somewhat more attractive to the khaki 
tribe than it had been for the preceding half 
year at the front while we were keeping 
"Jerry" stepping along, and to that end we 
installed a power saw in the local' railroad 
yard and sawed lumber and ^fabricated 
5,000 bunks to the tune of three shifts a day, 
eight hours each. All this work, however, 
did not block our chances of enjoying leave 
f 160 1 



and our first contingent of twenty-one men 
left for Vals les Bains on November 24th. 
They were the envy of every man in the 
company as they entrained, but as we are 
all one big family, they were given a rousing 
send-off and their going boded well for all 
of us, for the very fact of **Leave" being 
instituted; held out a promise for every moth- 
er's son of us as rapidly as accommodations 
could be secured. In the meantime a recon- 
naissance section was started with Sgt. ist 
Class Allen in charge of our section under the 
tutelage of Sgt. ist Class Garrison from 
303d Topographical Office. The roads in 
and around the territory were all surveyed 
both with allidade and prismatic compass so 
that not an inch of this locality was left un- 
mapped, including roads, lanes, buildings, 
railroads,woods, bridges, and even the hills and 
valleys, for running contours was just as easy 
as ''snapping it up" when **Jimmie" says 
"Fall in!" ' In the midst of the saw mill 
job the first leave contingent returned and 
were loud in their praises of Vals les Bains. 
Another ''leave bunch" departed for Aix 
les Bains a few days later. This program 
has been faithfully carried out so that in 
successive order detachments of our com- 
pany have promenaded in style and spent 
"beaucoup" francs in La Bourboule, Monte 
[161] 



Carlo, Nice and Grenoble, all agreeing on 
return that Uncle Sam's heart was in the 
right place. The privilege of a seven days 
vacation (not counting travelling time) with 
all expenses paid, in these garden spots of 
France has given us an entirely new and un- 
biased idea of France and her people. Had 
any of us embarked for the United States 
previous to enjoying "leave" the impression 
we would have carried back with us would 
not do justice to this historic country with 
its many honorable scars of past wars, its 
monuments, castles, feudal estates and ruins. 
Where is the red-blooded man or woman who 
had not longed for a trip to the Riviera, that 
fringe of Southern France which is washed by 
the deep blue Mediterranean and on whose 
slopes, jutting out in fantastic angles are 
the most beautiful chateaux that money can 
produce? The hotels, too, and there are 
hundreds of them from Marseilles to Men- 
tone, appear under the tropical sky like huge 
cameos set against the hills with their white 
facades and rich red tile roofs. Monaco is 
alone worth going to see. Monaco means to 
the reading public Monte Carlo, but after a 
visit to the place let us say that Monte Carlo 
means Monaco, for were it not for the casino 
in the city the principality could never have 
built the Oceangraphique Museum and the 
[ 162 1 



Cathedral, both of which are of the finest of 
their kind in the world. 

But sight-seeing tours have not been para- 
mount in this area. From January up to 
the time of leaving we have had a detach- 
ment of sixty men under Capt. Golden and 
Sgt. 1st Class Swan working the stone quarry 
at Pont Chevigny near Semur. To the 
consternation of the slow-plodding natives 
they installed stone crushers and blasted out 
rock in such quantities that the roads 
throughout this district were all kept in 
repair and maintenance during our stay there. 
During the month of March, Capt. Golden 
and Sgt. 1st Class Swan were replaced by 
Lt. Breese and Sgt. ist Class Morgan re- 
spectively. Another detachment of sixty 
men under Lt. King and Sgt. ist Class Klem 
operated at Montbard, keeping the roads in 
shape in that vicinity. Lt. Soden was 
attached to the 156th Infantry Brigade and 
was in charge of all the roads in the vicinity, 
road work being the most importaht item, 
due to the heavy traffic imposed upon them 
by the motor trucks and wagons, necessitat- 
ing constant attention. Sgt. ist Class 
Adams with details from the Second Battalion 
built a mammoth Y. M. C. A. and Chaplain 
Farreley arranged a splendid program of 
entertainments for our benefit. Shortly 
f 163 1 



after the completion of the building the "Flu" 
epidemic necessitated its being comman- 
deered as a hospital. A few weeks, however, 
saw the end of the ''Flu" and the "Y" was 
once more thronged with soldiers eager to 
part with their francs in exchange for cig- 
arettes and biscuits. 

So the weeks passed by with their con- 
tinued rounds of duties, varied by rigorous 
Saturday inspection and enlivened by occa- 
sional shows at the Y. M. C. A. It was by 
no means a hard life, but no matter how 
comfortable we might be in our snug billets 
or how full our stomachs were of slum (par- 
don, Signor Bottinelli, I mean ''Meat Pot 
Pie Jardiniere") thoughts of home were 
paramount in our minds. The old song, 
"Home, Boys, Home" found a new meaning 
for us in those days as we speculated on the 
probable date of our departure, and so it 
was with a feeling of relief. that we hailed 
the appearance of a bulletin giving the sail- 
ing schedule for divisions not slated for the 
Army of Occupation. We were to sail in 
May the schedule stated, and one and all 
agreed that it might be worse. 

On March 26th General Pershing reviewed 

the 78th Division. We received the news 

only the night before his arrival and in the 

barracks that evening there was much fren- 

l 164 ] 



zied overhauling of equipment, cleaning of 
rifles and dubbing of shoes. In the kitchen 
"Mac" fortified by vin rouge and a sense of 
duty, splashed whitewash wildly over every- 
thing in sight, principally over himself, while 
"Ira Muhs" whose status in the company 
had come to be something akin to that of a 
"landscape gardener," constructed out of 
stray bricks a large engineer castle right in 
front of the barracks door, where somebody 
who had dined not wisely but too well, 
promptly fell over it. Until long after Taps 
discussions raged as to the probability of the 
Commander-in-Chief's inspecting every rifle 
in the Division. Some felt that due to 
limitations of time he wouldn't inspect any, 
so — "What the hell are you shining up that 
pipe for?" while others more pessimistically 
took the view that "if he hooks anybody 
it'll be rne!" and nearly wore out their 
Eddystones with frantic polishing. 

During the evening the advance guard of 
the Division arrived in the form of various 
mud-bespattered machine gunners who were 
billeted in sundry unoccupied barns in the 
neighborhood and in the morning the roads 
echoed with the roar of hundreds of trucks 
bringing the remainder of the Division, as 
well as with the puffing and blowing of the 
tractors that hauled the big guns. In our 
[165] 




.5 






barracks all was excitement, preparations 
and bad language, the latter being caused 
by a light luncheon of bully beef. At 1 1 
o'clock we fell in, equipped with rifles, belts, 
bayonets, light packs and steel helmets and 
marched to the field near Regimental Head- 
quarters at Venarey where the review was 
to be held. 

As far as the eye could see the muddy 
field was covered with a sea of olive drab, 
relieved here and there with the scarlet of 
an artillery guidon. The air was rent with 
the blare of bands, the squeals of mules, the 
neighing of horses and the shouted com- 
mands of officers maneuvering their men 
into position. All was hurry and confu- 
sion. Officers, mounted on what were always 
referred to by courtesy as spirited horses, 
galloped hither and thither, or grouped them- 
selves in mysterious consultation; buck pri- 
vates chewed tobacco nervously and glanced 
apprehensively at their muddy shoes; while 
on everyone's lips was the question, "when 
is this damn thing going to start?" Over 
by the road and the bank of the canal a crowd 
of patient villagers stared curiously at the 
scene and no roof in the vicinity was without 
its group of watchers, clinging precariously 
to the chimneys or craning their necks 
out of attic windows. 

f 167 1 



The review was scheduled for two o'clock 
but it was well after that when the call of 
"attention!" echoed down the field, and a 
spare soldierly figure followed by a train of 
staff officers galloped on the field and passing 
us like a whirlwind disappeared in the direc- 
tion of the reviewing stand, where the for- 
mality of presenting the Division took place. 
Of this we saw nothing, nor indeed did we see 
much of anything that took place in front 
of the stand, as we were stationed at the 
extreme left of the line. At intervals of 
two minutes or so we presented arms and 
during the time not occupied in this manner, 
waited nervously for the dreaded inspection. 
It seemed to every man that he was doomed 
to undergo a minute and searching scrutiny 
from the Commander-in-chief, accompanied 
by questions calculated to tie his faculties 
into a bow knot. We had been especially 
warned to beware of these questions and 
above all things to give some kind of an 
answer. In some quarters there was mani- 
fest fear lest the General should pause in 
front of some unlucky ''buck" and demand 
to know "why is a chicken?" As science 
has never discovered the answer to this 
question it was the. general opinion that the 
soldier thus interrogated would be shot at 
sunrise. 

f 168 1 



But it was by no means as bad as all that. 
General Pershing first galloped around the 
field on horseback and then proceeded to a 
more "minute inspection of troops," as 
the divisional order has it. This minute 
inspection, so far as we could see, consisted 
in walking at tremendous speed through every 
company in the division, meanwhile ques- 
tioning the Company Commanders in regard 
to matters of rations, billets and drill. Oc- 
casionally he would hurl a question some- 
where in ranks: ''Where'd you get that 
broken nose?" ''What did you have for 
dinner?" or some similar query. A mo- 
ment's gljmpse of his straight, athletic figure 
and he was gone, with a herd of panting 
staff officers striving to keep pace with him. 
After the conclusion of the inspection an 
interval ensued during which the various 
regimental colors were inspected and strips 
of ribbon attached bearing the names of bat- 
tles in which the division has participated. 
And then we passed in review. 

It must have been a wonderful sight that 
the villagers and the watchers on the house 
tops beheld. To the crash and blare of the 
two hundred piece band the whole mass swung 
into movement and poured, an avalanche of 
dull green, tipped with shining steel, past 
the. reviewing stand. As each regiment 
[169] 



passed, the hand of the General swept to the 
visor of his cap in salute — salute to the vet- 
erans of the St. Mihiel and the Argonne, to 
the men who had endured the hunger, thirst 
and wretchedness of war, who had held the 
line at Grand Pre, fought their way through 
the Bois des Loges and chased the Boche 
into Sedan. It was a fitting end to the epic 
of the 78th Division, that review — a division 
which fought steadily and well without 
thought of future praise; whose achievements 
are written not in the screaming headlines 
of metropolitan dailies but in the blood of its 
heroes. 

The review was over — all but a brief 
soldierly speech from the General to the 
men of the division packed in a dense mass 
around him, and tired and hungry but with a 
certain feeling of satisfaction nevertheless, 
we turned our footsteps back to the barracks 
and supper. 

The big inspection over and the Com- 
mander-in-chief's dreaded presence removed, 
we resumed our monotonous duties. Daily 
we manicured the streets of Les Laumes and 
the roads of the surrounding country, for the 
word had gone forth that before the division 
could leave the area the highways of Cote 
d'Or must be thoroughly repaired. Accord- 
ingly they were scraped and polished and 
[170] 



scrubbed day after day by the details of 
engineers and infantry whose curses echoed 
to high heaven at the thought of "fixing up 
those damn roads for the frogs." Every- 
thing was done to the Cote d'Or except to 
sprinkle the statue of Vercingetorix with 
rose water and indeed the "Bubble" our 
leading newspaper, printed a heart-rending 
appeal to its readers to raise money to pro- 
vide the ancient warrior with a pair of O. D. 
gloves. 

By night, around the barrack stoves, the 
one topic of conversation was "when are 
we going home?" As in the lines, so in the 
S. O. S., rumors of all descriptions filled 
the air and the possessors of that mysterious 
something known as "dope," kept the minds 
of the company in a continuous turmoil. 
Among these amateur prophets "Dizzy" 
Congdon was chief, and it was a remarkable 
occurrence when that bright and shining 
youth failed to bound into the barracks with 
a bibfull of "bull." We knew of course that 
the division was scheduled to leave in May, 
but the exact date of our departure was the 
subject of many heated arguments. 

Our lives were brightened materially by 

the arrival in Les Laumes of a real honest- 

to-gosh circus, consisting of four or five 

acrobats, two decrepit camels, one man-cat- 

[171] 



ing mule and a dog. This peculiar conglom- 
eration arrived in Les Laumes on pay day and 
anchored in the vacant lot opposite our bar- 
racks. Although it was a source of endless 
amusement to have a show right next door 
their presence was not an unmixed joy, for a 
guard was immediately stationed in the road, 
whether to prevent the circus people from 
stealing the barracks or the company from 
molesting the camels no man knoweth. As 
things turned out, it developed that the 
camels were well able to protect themselves, 
for on the evening of their arrival one of 
them committed a violent and unprovoked 
assault on the person of '"Judge" Steibeling, 
that ornament of the legal talent of Cote 
d'Or. Details of the encounter are lack- 
ing but it appears that while the Judge was 
peaceably wending his way homeward after 
an evening spent in the Y. M. C. A. (we 
assume that it is in the Y. M. C. A. that the 
Judge passes his spare moments) one of 
the ships of the desert backed him into a 
corner and ate large portions of his anat- 
omy. The Judge declares that he had done 
nothing to provoke the camel and that in his 
opinion the animal must have been under 
the influence of liquor. Be that as it may 
we kept at a respectful distance from the 
caniels thereafter. 

[172] 



The show itself proved to be the usual one- 
horse circus with all the old stuff that had 
been familiar to us since the days when we 
used to crawl under the tent or carry water 
to the elephant. A little tumbling, a few 
acrobatic stunts and a small energetic band 
whose repertoire included "Yip-i-yaddy-i-ay" 
and ''Tipperary," comprised their stock in 
trade. But nevertheless for the two nights 
they showed in Les Laumes the tent was 
crowded with a large and enthusiastic audi- 
ence and the aggregation of **2o artists, 
2 dromedaries, i dog," left Les Laumes 
with **beaucoup" francs in their possession. 

So the days passed by with their time- 
worn routine and one differed not from an- 
other save that the bugler occasionally blew 
**taps" a little flat. ''Retreat" was held 
every evening in front of the railway sta- 
tion — an event which invariably collected a 
crowd of small children, dogs and loafers, 
who gaped uncomprehendingly at what must 
have been to them a strange and outlandish 
ceremony. Night after night as we me- 
chanically did "parade rest" and "present 
arms" we wondered how many more times 
we were to listen to the strains of "Retreat" 
and "To the Colors" in France. Some of the 
boys began to talk of laying in several bales 
of service stripes for future use, for rumors 
[173 1 



were persistent that the division's sailing 
date had been set back indefinitely. But 
one evening in the Y. M. C. A. came an an- 
nouncement that hit us like a thunderclap. 
**7j2oo of the 78th Division entrain for Mar- 
seilles." It was almost unbelievable and 
in fact so hardened were we to reports of 
this kind that some of us could hardly be- 
lieve our eyes when on the 23rd of April 
the 153rd Artillery Brigade began to pour 
into Les Laumes, sweating under heavy packs 
but grinning cheerfully in the consciousness 
that they were going home **toute suite." 
The villagers gazed in sadness as the dusty 
column swung past. The "crazee American 
soldat" was going at last — but so were his 
francs. 

Day after day the movement of troops 
continued; troop trains shuttled in and out 
with their smiling, cheering loads and in a 
wonderfully short space of time the last of 
the lucky seven thousand two hundred were 
on their way to Marseilles. As we watched 
trainload after trainload rumble out of the 
station a sort of forlorn, deserted feeling 
assailed us for by now it was a fairly well 
established fact that the engineers would not 
leave the area until it had been thorou ghy 
policed and all traces of American occu- 
pancy removed. 

[174 1 



To us accordingly fell the disagreeable 
task of camouflaging with mud the abandoned 
site of barracks in the field opposite the sta- 
bles; of tearing up the ground floor of the 
mess hall (just recently put in); of picking 
up little sticks and pieces of paper; of doing 
all the dirty little jobs that the inhabitants 
of the to\vn were too busy to attend to. 
The language of the details who pondered 
over these pleasant tasks was not that of the 
Sunday-school room and the general conclu- 
sion seemed to be that the A. E. F. was pay- 
ing a little interest on our debt to France. 
But as becomes good soldiers and government 
mules, we swallowed our discontent. Like 
the Light Brigade of song and story **ours 
not to reason why" so we performed our 
tasks as painstakingly as could be expected of 
human beings endowed with a sense of the 
ridiculous and waited impatiently for the 
time of our departure. 

Several exciting ball games served to make 
the time pass more quickly than it otherwise 
would perhaps. There was plenty of good 
material for a team in the company and 
practice developed a fast aggregation of ball 
tossers who crossed bats with teams repre- 
senting Headquarters, C, D and F compan- 
ies. Aside from the unfortunate propensity 
of Sgt. Hoffmire to boot the pill all over our 
[175] 



parish, Cpl. Page's frequent excursions into 
Dreamland and Sgt. MacDonald's short- 
ness of wind, it was a good team. It won a 
game once so it must have been. More 
excitement was aroused over the game be- 
tween the non-coms under Sgt. Geyer and 
''Marble Ears" Young and the ''bucks" led 
by "Mose Lennon, the sanitary man" and 
Pvt. Thomas Dubbin Jones. Rain con- 
tinually put off the game but excitement was 
at fever height nevertheless and the peace 
of the barracks was shattered by the dis- 
putes as to the relative merits of the two 
teams. In proof of the strength of their 
convictions the bucks raised the sum of fifty 
torn and tattered francs and challenged the 
non-coms to cover it. This, after much 
hedging and stalling, they found themselves 
unable to do, and the game was played with- 
out the added interest of a side bet. It 
proved to be a regular carnival of errors, 
the bucks finally running out by a large 
score. 

All the time while the events just chron- 
icled were taking place part of the company 
had been in exile in the pathless wastes of 
Pont Chevigny, near Semur, where under 
the competent direction of Master Engineers 
Brophy and Hogle they had been operating 
a stone quarry. Large details of infantry 
[176 1 



had been assigned to assist in the work and 
as they were recalled to their units to pre- 
pare to entrain for the port of embarkation 
it became necessary to reinforce the quarry 
gang. To those of the company remaining 
at Les Laumes fell the duty of filling up the 
ranks, and load was the mourning when the 
sad tidings came in, for Pont Chevigny is 
to Les Laumes as Osceola is to New York. 

It was a dismal morning on the first of 
May, when the last of E company descended 
from the trucks into the single street of Pont 
Chevigny. It was raining steadily and 
persistently, and the sight that met our 
eyes was in keeping with the gloom of the 
heavens above. A row of ancient, moss- 
covered stone houses, two or three hospital 
tents which were destined to be our future 
abode, a barn that housed the old timers 
of the quarry gang, and a bridge that evi- 
dently gave the town its name and oflFered by 
reason of its height an easy means for sui- 
cide to anybody weary of life in the clam 
mines — that was Pont Chevigny. Over it 
brooded the silence of death broken only 
by the distant rumble of the crushers in the 
quarry. All around was the solitude of the 
untraveled wilderness. 

To say what we really think of Pont Chev- 
igny would make this narrative unfit for 
[177 1 



publication or a place on the shelves of any 
respectable library. We remained there 
about a week, turning out an average of 120 
yards of stone per day and solacing our leisure 
moments at the town's lone estaminet where 
a lady familiarly known as *'old haggle 
tooth" sold beer which was the town's one 
redeeming feature. Rumors declared that 
we would remain in this gloomy solitude 
until the latter part of May and even the 
excellent rations we received here were 
unable to quiet our grumblings. And if we 
grumbled what must have been the feelings 
of the men who had been there all winter, 
who had worked in rain and mud and snow 
day in and day out? There should be a 
special service ribbon for service in the rock 
quarry. 

But one day the news came that our 
troubles were over and that we were to re- 
turn "toute suite" for Les Laumes to entrain 
for Bordeaux — and home. Imagine the 
shouts of joy that greeted this announce- 
ment; imagine the revelry that ensued that 
evening in the abode of '*old haggle tooth!" 
On the morning of May nth we left Pont 
Chevigny bag and baggage on what was to 
be the first lap of our journey back home. 
By night time we were once more safely 
billeted in our "old home town" as it seemed 
[178] 



to us then after about six months of occu- 
pancy. The inhabitants were more than 
pleased to have us back, for during our short 
absence it had fallen into a dormant stage 
and the smiling and cheerful engineers were 
woefully missed. Handshakes and greet- 
ings were nu xierous and the stillness of night 
was broken by merry shouts of laughter and 
broken French, as we told of our experiences 
at Pont Chevigny. Sunday and Monday 
were spent in getting in readiness for the 
box-car journey that would bring us to our 
exit of the A. E. F.— BORDEAUX. 



179 



CHAPTER X 

Homeward Bound 

The morning of May 13th could not have 
been a clearer or fairer day to say farewell 
to the folk of Les Laumes, perhaps never 
again to partake of their hospitality. We 
were up at 5:00 A. M. rolling packs, and so 
happy and anxious were we, that we were all 
ready to depart before the appointed time to 
''fall in." At 6:30 we proceeded to the 
railroad yard where we boarded our Pull- 
mans. This time being of the U. S. variety, 
they were more roomy and more modern of 
manufacture than our former conveyors the 
four-wheeled ''40 Hommes and 8 Chevaux." 
After we were settled and had our packs 
arranged and places picked out, we emerged 
again and fell in line for breakfast which was 
served from our train kitchen cars.. Many of 
the boys forsook the mess line and partook 
of their last repast at the home of their French 
admirers, returning afterwards with an arm- 
ful of flowers with which the cars were 
decorated. 

The regimental band filled the air with 
popular strains for at least an hour; smiling 
faces were everywhere; everyone was joyful, 
[180 1 



for the long looked for day had at last arrived. 
Conversations were based chiefly on the 
speedy trip through Bordeaux. The bugler 
sounded **fall in" for the last time in this 
quaint old town and we all scrambled aboard. 
At 9:30 the v/histle of the train shrieked out a 
warning blast and we were under way, guided 
by a distinctly American crew of railroaders, 
which fact filled our hearts with safety. We 
crowded the doorways and windows as we 
pulled out and slowly crept past the crowd of 
villagers who cheered loudly and waved to 
us a fond goodbye and "bon voyage." Our 
responding cheers were loud and long and 
shall long be remembered by the good people 
of Les Laumes and the members of Company 
**E." With increasing speed the village 
faded forever from our view and we settled 
down unresentingly, to view the passing 
scenery. Seats in the doorways were in big 
demand and those who obtained same, usually 
hung on until darkness and then left only 
because there was no more to be seen. There 
were the usual number of halts and stops for 
coffee and backing up and sidetracking that 
always molests the peaceful travels of a troop 
train. 

It was a bright sunshiny day and the 
interior of the cars soon became hotter than 
was consistent with comfort. The **door- 
[181] 



hounds," as those individuals who were 
privileged to dangle their feet from the door- 
way were called, began to be the object of 
much envy and scathing remarks were 
addressed to them (to which, being in the 
strategic position, they paid no attention). 
Their critics, finding frontal attacks of no use, 
finally changed their tactics and adopted a 
sort of starving out process, which though 
requiring unlimited patience was bound to 
succeed in the end, as the '*door-hound," like 
all domestic animals must be fed at least once 
a day. 

Our rations, which had been chucked into 
the car shortly before the train left, consisted 
of bully beef, bread, one or two cans of beans 
and jam — "beaucoup" jam. As there was 
little to do except to eat, tremendous inroads 
were made into these supplies in the course 
of the afternoon, and even the bully beef 
with the bitter memories it awakened was 
bolted with enthusiasm. In the intervals 
between our impromptu meals we smoked, 
read what magazines were on board or 
engaged in discussion of the latest rumors — 
which as usual came out with the rapidity of 
baseball extras during a world series. Accord- 
ing to the custom of soldiers, since the days 
when Caesar's billeting party arrived in the 
Cote d'Or, we shouted greetings at all women 
f 182 1 



under ninety or over nine, and were met in 
return with smiles and fluttering handker- 
chiefs. Charley Klaes however usually man- 
aged to spoil the sentimental effect by advis- 
ing the ladies to '*go wipe your nose" or 
"g'wan in and get busy with the dishes." 

At all stc^^s the all-seeing eye of the Bat- 
talion Adjutant was quick to detect any 
attempt to stray too far from the train. There 
seemed to be a sort of impression that large 
numbers of the soldiery were determined to 
remain in France at any cost and that only 
the severest measures could prevent them 
from going A. W. O. L. 

Twilight descended at last on the quiet 
country landscape through which we were 
speeding, but it was long after dark when the 
last "door-hound" crawled back into the 
car and settled down for the night. Sleeping 
space was hard to find and harder still to hold, 
once it had been secured. Matters were 
usually adjusted either by violent duels in 
which hobnails at two paces were the favorite 
weapons, or by compromise whereby one 
disputant agreed to take his foot out of the 
other's mouth if the other would quit kickin* 
him in the ear. Everybody must sleep at 
least in some way or other with the exception 
of those sitting in at a quiet little game of 
[183 1 



stud poker which raged all night over a pile 
of dilapidated francs. 

At four o'clock, just as everybody had 
nicely settled down, we were aroused by the 
cry of "All out for coffee." The interior 
arrangements of the car being much dis- 
turbed by the consequent confusion of getting 
in and out, nobody went to sleep again. A 
light lunch of bully beef, bread and jam 
formed our breakfast and we once more 
resigned ourselves to another day on the 
train. 

The second day's ride proved to be a 
replica of the first. The same stops and 
starts, the same anxious poring over thumb- 
worn maps, the same excitement every time 
a town of any size appeared — it would be 
tiresome repetition to recount all the com- 
monplace events of the day's ride. Out of it 
all, one picture abides with us — the sight of 
the venerable Doc Love bounding from the 
car with waving arms and a piece of bread 
clinched between his teeth, in hot pursuit of a 
bottle of beer. 

Late in the afternoon we stopped again for 
coffee, and most of us found time for a hasty 
wash before we moved on again. We were 
nearing the end of our journey at last, 
according to the official dope and were 
scheduled to arrive in Bordeaux at 2:00 A.M. 
f 184] 



So we went peacefully to sleep, thanking the 
powers above that our last train ride in 
France was drawing to a close. Some 
twenty or thirty miles from our destination, 
however, our engine broke down and much 
valuable tixne was lost trying to fix it with 
a hairpin. During the interval while the 
train crew was thus employed, a thunder- 
shower developed the fact that the roofs of 
the cars were far from waterproof and the 
confusion in the box-cars was worse con- 
founded by the efforts of those who were 
getting wet to find a dry spot. Luckily 
the shower was of short duration or the 
train would have soon borne close 
resemblance to an outing of the Bolsheveki. 
At last the engine was prodded and coaxed 
into action, and about four o'clock, just as 
dawn was breaking we rolled across the 
Gironde into Bordeaux and dumped our packs 
on the platform of the station with many 
grunts and groans of relief. 

The Battle of Bordeaux 

Every American soldier, be he doughboy, 
artilleryman or engineer, participates in at 
least one great battle before he forsakes the 
shores of France for those of his native land. 
If he embarks from Brest he refers to it 
afterward as the ''Battle of Brest;" if from 
[185] 



St. Nazaire as the ''Battle of St. Nazaire;" 
if from Bordeaux he calls it the ''Battle of 
Bordeaux" and several other things much 
less complimentary. 

Upon arriving in Bordeaux, stiff and sore 
from your forty or fifty hours confinement 
in the good old box cars, you crawl into your 
equipment and march through the city and 
over the hills to the Entrance Camp. Here 
you remain until room is found for you and 
your outfit in the Permanent Camp. In our 
case the time spent in the Entrance Camp 
was only a few hours. Here also, they put 
over a terrible barrage of paper work, and 
the clerks, ivory ticklers and pen pushers 
were forced to labor industriously for about 
thirty consecutive hours, without sleep, in 
order to complete the battle as called for by 
the Government "red tape" generals. 

Once in a permanent camp, you remain 
there until your ship comes in or hell freezes 
over. The first thing that happens to you 
upon your arrival in that wire encircled mad- 
house, is a trip through what is known as the 
"mill," which must be experienced to be 
appreciated. During this journey (which 
could give old man Dante and General 
Sherman several new ideas of hell) you 
are handed over to the S.O. S. body and soul. 
The S. O. S. is Simon Legree and you are 
f 186 1 



Uncle Tom, and when they crack the whip, 
you jump or say *'uncle" or roll over or do 
anything else required of you. And you 
do it P. D. Q. 

First you file into a mammoth building big 
enough to house a regiment and throw your 
rifles in a pile in the corner. Immediately 
after this, you undo your pack and bundle all 
your worldly belongings up in a shelter half, 
with the exception of your blankets which 
go out of your life forever. Carrying this 
bundle in one hand and clutching your identi- 
fication tags in the other, you "follow the 
crowd" past one clerk who gives you a 
clothing slip to sign, and another who presents 
you with a barracks bag and a red cross bag, 
and directs you to another attendant demon 
on the other side of the room. 

He addresses you in these words, making 
funny marks on your clothing slip all the 
time: **Have you got two pairs of drawers- 
twoundershirtstw oO.D.shirtsfourpairsof 
socksextrashoestrings?" There is more to his 
oration but it all sounds about like the sample 
given above and at intervals you gasp, 
''Yes, yes, I got that," or '*No, no, I aint." 
When the ordeal is over you stagger out of 
the building with your clothing slip checked 
up, your Red Cross bag filled with your 
personal belongings and your barracks bag 
[187] 



crammed with equipment. One short breath 
of fresh air and you are in another building 
with your service record in your hand, answer- 
ing those old familiar questions about yourself 
and the family cat. 

And then after stumbling down the aisle 
and round a corner you enter the ''mill" 
itself and the S. O. S. has you at its mercy. 
Seated on a bench opposite a door which 
gives entrance to the delouser, you undress 
at breakneck speed urged on by the yells 
of S. O. S. privates who were formerly the 
object of your scorn and contempt. A truck 
rolls out of the delouser's maw and on it you 
dispose your belongings with breathless 
haste. The truck vanishes and you are left, 
clad simply but beautifully in your Red 
Cross bag and a pair of shoes. In this 
costume you file by a medical officer who 
subjects you to a minute examination, and 
under a shower bath, where you scrub yourself 
with chemical soap. Then more doctors 
give you the up and down, the once over 
and the twice across for various forms of 
animal life. If you get by them the worst 
is over. 

As you file by a counter your clothing slip 

once more comes into play and you receive 

all the equipment you lack, in addition to a 

new suit of underwear in exchange for the 

[ 188 1 



presumably "cootified" one you have thrown 
away. You return to a seat on the opposite 
side of the delouser and in a few minutes 
the truck is trundeled out with your now 
disinfected garments. After putting on 
enough to escape arrest you cram everything 
else in your bag, rush madly out of the 
delouser, hand in your clothing slip and 
stagger out into the open air. You are 
through with the mill now and can say to 
those not so fortunate, ''You'll like it — yes 

you will!" 

* * * 

**When are we going home?" That was 
the question on everyone's lips. The office 
force were driven to the verge of insanity by 
the constant succession of inquiring spirits 
who at every opportunity buttonholed, be- 
set and bedevilled them for information, 
and at last took refuge in an attitude of 
blankest ignorance. Even **Dizzy" Cong- 
don, general dispenser of misinformation, 
was mute. 

But at last the real authentic "dope" 
came in. We were to sail on the Steamship 
"Santa Ana." As this information was 
strictly true of course nobody believed it, 
but turned receptive ears to wild stories of 
impending war. However, on the said Satur- 
day, May 24th, the regiment, less "C" and 
[189] 



"D" companies, rolled packs and departed 
from the Embarkation Camp with many a 
fervent curse hurled in the direction of the 
**mill." Six kilometers — dusty, sweaty, 
French kilometers lay between us and the 
docks and proved a potent reminder to us 
of our days of active service. It is a matter 
of record, however, that nobody fell out, 
and toward noon, after threading the streets 
of various suburbs of Bordeaux, we arrived 
at the American docks and saw before us 
the blue waters of the Gironde. 

More important and interesting to us than 
the spectacle of that beautiful river (asso- 
ciated in our minds with the historic boat 
ride) was the sight of the ''Santa Ana" 
with her gangplanks lowered and a busy 
crowd of sailors evidently engaged in prepar- 
ing her for an early departure. On the dock 
the 303d Engineers band (popularly known 
as the ''Boiler Makers") vied with a French 
band in blare of bugles and roll of drums, 
attracting a curious crowd of French civilians 
and colored stevedores. It was a scene 
full of life and interest, but we were not 
destined to wait long in contemplation of 
it, for after receiving a welcome gift of 
chocolate and cigarettes from the ever present 
Red Cross, we filed over the docks and at 
last after a year of varied experiences set 
f 190 1 



foot on that which had long been the object 
of our hopes and dreams — the gangplank! 

We found our quarters on the **Santa Ana" 
to be far superior to those into which we had 
been jammed, crammed and shoved on the 
well remembered ''Kashmir." A ship's hold 
can never under any circumstances be made 
over into a palace, but on the *'Santa Ana" 
we were at least spared the confusion and 
inconvenience of stringing hammocks, for 
upon our arrival in our subterranean home 
we found ourselves confronted with tiers 
of neat iron bunks which were the first of 
the species encountered since we left Camp 
Dix. 

We had barely time to get our belongings 
stowed away and return to deck for a breath 
of fresh air when there came a warning toot 
from the whistle. The band (for once 
seized with some idea of the fitness of things) 
struck up ''Homeward Bound"; a Red Cross 
girl on the dock waved her hand; Bill Naylor 
heaved a sigh of regret for the vin rouge 
of Les Laumes and slowly we slid down the 
river on our way back home. 

Space forbids a detailed description of the 
voyage home. For the first day or two 
we encountered good weather, but thereafter 
the good ship Santa Ana rocked, wriggled 
and rolled all over the ocean and, although 
f 1911 



the sailors scornfully laughed at the idea 
that there was anything like a storm on 
the Atlantic, it was all the storm we wanted. 
The rail was lined with wan looking figures 
casting not only bread but slum and beans 
on the waters, and for several days large 
numbers of engineers lay in their bunks too 
sick to brave the dangers of a trip to the 
upper air. 

But the storm — for despite the opinion 
of the sailors we insist that it was a storm — 
subsided after four days and during the last 
few days of our voyage we floated over a sea 
as smooth as glass and as destitute of a 
ripple as the most peaceful of lakes. The 
days passed slowly with much lounging 
on deck, while the evenings were slightly 
enlivened by movie shows in the stern and 
barber-shop harmony in the bow. Daily 
our throats and noses were sprayed with 
some sort of disagreeable liquid which 
tasted like concentrated essence of hell fire 
and sent its victims coughing and spitting 
to the rail. Just what disease this process 
was supposed to avert no man knoweth, but 
at any rate the malady could have been but 
little worse than the prevention — at least 
to our prejudiced minds. 

At last on midnight of June 5th the 
**Santa Ana" steamed slowly into New York 
[192] 



Bay and our journey was over. We were back 
in the States at last. The anchor was low- 
ered and the "Santa Ana" lay quiet through 
the remaining dark hours of night. Early 
daylight found the decks packed with the 
returned warriors who gazed open-mouthed 
at the scenes around them, that seemed like 
a real paradise at last. In the distance the 
Statue of Liberty was vaguely discernible 
through the early morning mist and our 
hearts were filled with pride and also relief 
as we slowly awoke from our dreams to 
realize that it was really true and we were 
once more in the ''Land of Liberty" with 
freedom from the bonds of army life close 
at hand. 

At 7:00 A. M. the anchor was raised. 
Slowly then the "Santa Ana" crept up the 
bay, its decks packed with a frantic, cheering 
mob. Welcome boats came out to meet 
us carrying bands that ripped off such 
lively tunes as "Ja Da" and "How You 
Goin' to Keep Them Down on the Farm." 
That one of these bands happened to be 
composed of Jersey City policemen seemed 
to some of the New York State boys that 
there must have been a friendly feeling be- 
tween the said band and the Jersey "heroes" 
(whether it was that some were former mem- 
bers of the Police Department or steady 
[193 1 



customers it has not been ascertained) and 
so the New York boys gave the "Jerseyites" 
a final "razzing." 

It was a time in our lives that we had long 
awaited and amidst the happiness and the 
thrills that passed over us we forgot all the 
hardships and privations we had undergone 
in France. Everyone craned their neck 
looking for a familiar face, flags and handker- 
chiefs were waved freely, "hellos" and 
''welcome home" were drowned out by wild 
cheers and shouts of joy, bombs were sent 
bursting into the air and such a barrage of 
chocolate and cigarettes was put over that 
each man collected enough to supply him 
for a week. When we finally tied up to the 
Brooklyn dock we entered the huge ware- 
house, unslung our packs and were again 
bestowed with a feed by the Red Cross, 
consisting of apple pie (our first in ages), 
ginger cookies, milk, candy and peanuts. 

After a couple of hours of waiting, during 
which time we sent telegrams and cards 
announcing our arrival, we boarded a ferry 
and made for the *Tennsy" station at Jersey 
City. Here we were given a rousing wel- 
come by the crowds that thronged the station 
and as we filed through in a column of twos, 
the line was broken by frantic mothers and 
sweethearts who embraced their long lost, 
[194] 



returning heroes. In the train shed the 
Red Cross girls once more showered us with 
oranges and candy. It was surely a plentiful 
day for us and we feasted as we would have 
done while in the front line far away from 
civilization if our dreams then would only 
have come true. 

The ride to Camp Dix was without special 
incident and consumed about two and a 
half hours, during which time it poured 
rain, while we lounged contentedly in the 
cushion seats and pulled away at our cig- 
arettes, munching chocolate and candy at 
the same time. So comfortable were the 
seats and so speedy the ride, so different 
from our rides in France, that most of us 
thought we were having a nightmare or 
the tremens. It seemed almost impossible 
that we were back again in the land of the 
living, going over the same route where 
over a year previously we had travelled on 
quite a different mission. The future then 
looked dark for us and unsettled, but now 
everything was bright and promising. 

It seemed homelike to be back again at 
Camp Dix but our welcome was not any 
too pleasing to us there. Another delouser 
stretched forth its arms and beckoned us 
within its portals. We entered unwillingly 
and submitted to all the rules and knocks 
[195 1 



laid down by "Mr. Delouser." When we 
emerged we were clean of body, in a bad 
frame of mind, our clothing was wrinkled 
but we continued "following the man ahead'* 
and ere an hour or two had passed we were 
rid of all our equipment, except blankets, 
mess-kits and personal property. By night 
time we were established in our barracks 
and settled down to await the order of 
demobilization. 

From Friday, June 6th, until Thursday, 
June 1 2th, we nervously paced the limits of 
Camp Dix, our thoughts concentrated on our 
main objective — discharge, and freedom from 
the much hated discipline and ever dominat- 
ing rules of army life. For a man who has 
future prospects of a successful business life, 
the army holds little, if any, charms and 
the National Army was composed of almost 
one hundred per cent of such men who looked 
forward happily and anxiously for the final 
day of parting. 

As a fitting ceremony to our fast approach- 
ing day of demobilization we were tendered 
a reception by our former Captain, Robert A. 
Greenfield, on the night of Tuesday, June 
loth. He came down from Mount Vernon, 
N. Y. to welcome home his old company in 
which he had placed all his confidence and 
for which he had labored so hard to produce 
[196] 



a body of well-trained, disciplined, heroic 
soldiers. After a spread of ice cream, 
strawberries, cakes, cigars and candy was 
enjoyed we listened to speeches by Capt. 
Greenfield, Capt. King, Lt. Beaver, Lt. 
Breese and Capt. Babcock. Many members 
of the company responded with little talks, 
stories and songs and a very enjoyable 
evening was spent together. At the request 
of Capt. Greenfield we sang many of our old 
marching songs and concluded the evening's 
pleasure by chanting the *^Star Spangled 
Banner." Cheers rent the air for all the 
officers and then we escorted Capt. Greenfield 
to the station in a body, he taking charge 
of the company and giving the commands, 
just for Old Time's Sake. This ended one 
of the most pleasant nights for Company 
"E," one that always will linger in the memory 
of those present on the occasion. 

The morning of June 12, 1919, marks the 
last line of history for Company '*E." We 
marched to the "Discharge Center," were 
paid in full, secured our discharge and were 
once more free and independent. Each and 
everyone of us have our own personal remin- 
iscences of that morning which we daresay 
are pleasant for us all and shall be as long as 
memory lasts. Company "E" is dead physi- 
cally, but its memory shall live on forever 
f 197 1 



in the hearts of its members, who can be proud 
of the records and the achievements attained 
while fighting in foreign lands under the 
colors of ''Old Glory." 

Lest We Forget 

The deeds of those who gave up their lives 
in battle shall ever be recorded in the annals 
of history — history of this Great World War. 
There are those who shall ever carry a mark, 
a battle scar, be it caused by cold steel, 
bursting shell, rifle bullet or poisonous gas 
and who shall exhibit it proudly to their 
sons and daughters of the coming generation, 
laying bare all the facts, the dashing courage, 
the bravery and sufl^erings which they shared 
unselfishly with their comrades. To the 
survivors, the living heroes, shall be given 
much praise, for theirs is the right to live 
and enjoy, held in the highest esteem by 
mankind, just as they suflFered and fought 
in the wildest regions of France, where self 
sacrifice was paramount and death never 
thought of. 

It is fitting then that tribute be paid to 
those of our comrades whom we have left 
behind us, who lie abreast in serried ranks 
beneath the little wooden crosses that mark 
the mounds wherein they sleep, unable to 
share in the glories of the victory made 
f 198 1 



possible only by the sacrifice of their own 
lives, which is rightfully theirs. And to the 
mothers at home go out our sympathies. 
They too lived and suffered, bearing their 
sufferings bravely in the hope that some day 
there would return to their midst a great 
soldier, to ease again their troubled hearts. 
And in spite of all, these troubled gray- 
hiaired mothers continue to live on, knowing 
that he shall never come back to cheer them; 
live on unflinchingly with pride in their 
hearts, knowing that *'he did all that was 
asked of him" and was called by the Great 
Almiighty to a land where peace alone reigns, 
where sorrow and suffering is unknown. 
They have done their duty and done it well. 
The memories of these unforgotten heroes 
shall ever urge us on to the better things 
in life. 

'I* H* H* ^ 

Orville B. Alexander, Private. Drafted 
at Springfield, III. Assigned to company 
on May 19, 191 8. Arrived safely overseas 
with company on June 7, 191 8, at Liverpool, 
England. Present with company in St. 
Mihiel sector from September 12 to 
October 3, 191 8, and in the Meuse-Argonne 
Sector from October 12 to November 7, 
191 8. While company was in training area 
at Les Laumes, he secured a leave of absence 
[199] 



to Aix les Bains, France, and while there 
contracted influenza and was sent to 
the hospital on December lo. He 
later developed broncho-pneumonia which 
resulted in his death on December i6, 191 8. 
He was buried in the Municipal Cemetery 
at Aix les Bains, Savoie, France. 

♦I* 'I* 'I* ^ 

August M. Luoto, Private. Assigned to 
company September 23, 191 8 while in the 
St. Mihiel Sector. Present with the company 
through the Meuse-Argonne campaign. 
Contracted pneumonia while with the com- 
pany in training area at Les Laumes, France. 
Died in hospital at Semur en Auxois, Cote 
d'Or, France, on December 22, 1918. Buried 
in cemetery at Semur en Auxois, Cote d'Or, 

France. 

* * * * 

Benjamin Q. Mastin, Private. Drafted 
at Oswego, N. Y. Assigned to company on 
May 4, 191 8. Arrived safely overseas with 
company on June 7, 191 8, at Liverpool, 
England. Present with company in St. 
Mihiel sector from September 12 to October 
3, 191 8, and in the Meuse-Argonne Sector 
from October 12 to November 6, 191 8. 
Admitted to hospital on November 6, 191 8. 
Died while in Base Hospital No. 42, France, 
following an operation for appendicitis. 
12011 



William J. Brennan, Wagoner. Drafted 
at Buffalo, N. Y. Assigned to company on 
October ii, 1917. Arrived safely overseas 
with company on June 7, 191 8, at Liverpool, 
England. Present with company in St. 
Mihiel sector from September 12 to October 
3, 191 8, and in the Meuse-Argonne sector 
from October 12 to November 7, 191 8. 
Contracted pneumonia while with company 
in training area at Les Laumes, Cote d'Or, 
France. Died in 309th Field Hospital on 
February 16, 191 9. Buried at Semur en 
Auxois, Cote d'Or, France, on February 17, 
1919. 

WOUNDED IN ACTION 

Gibbs, Ryall C. Private Slightly wounded 

Sept. 14, 191 8 Thiacourt (near) 

Lefeve, Eugene Private, 1st cl. Slightly wounded 

Sept. 19, 191 8 Thiacourt (near) 

Gates, Patrick H. Private, ist cl. Slightly gassed 
Oct. 18,1918 Grand Pre (near) 

Genaitis, Paul P. Private Slightly wounded 

Oct. 19,1918 Grand Pre (near) 

Hull, Oran D. Private Slightly gassed 

Oct. 19,1918 Grand Pre (near) 

Adams, Orvel N. Sergeant Slightly wounded 

Nov. 1,1918 Grand Pre (near) 

[202 1 



Greatehouse, George Private Slightly wounded 

Nov. 1,1918 Grand Pre (near) 

Harrison, Harold Private Slightly wounded 

Nov. 1,1918 Grand Px-e (near) 

Koerner, Frederick Private Slightly wounded 

Nov. 1,1918 Grand Pre (near) 

Loderbach, Edward Private Slightly wounded 

Nov. 1,1918 Grand Pre (near) 




203] 



ROSTER OF COMPANY "E" 
303D ENGINEERS 

OFFICERS 

Captain Theodore S. Babcock 

Pelham Manor, New York 
1ST Lieutenant Merl B. Breese 

Wyoming, Penn. 
1ST Lieutenant Robert J. Parmenter 

4323 Berkeley Ave., Chicago, 111. 
1ST Lieutenant William E. Soden 

23 Chestnut St., Binghamton, N. Y. 
2ND Lieutenant Walter A. Bornemann 

Montclair, N. J. 
2ND Lieutenant Wilmer W. Hartman 

3602 Fairmount Ave., Philadelphia, Pa. 

ENLISTED MEN 

Adams, Orvel N. 

Sergeant J 1st class 131 Hamburg St., E. Aurora, N. Y. 
Albright, James A. 

Private^ ist class 455 South 6th St., Camden, N. J. 
Allen, William E. 

Sergeant^ 1st class 933 Fruit Ave., Farrell, Pa. 

Allison, Cornelius M. 

Corporal ist National Bank Bldg., Waterloo, la. 
Altman, William 

Private 520 No. 6th St., Springfield, 111. 

Anderson, Lester C. 

Corporal Hilton, N. Y. 

Ardery, Virgil 

Private 611 Pear Ave., Carterville, 111. 

Arena, Peter 

Corporal 17 Third St., Rochester, N. Y. 

[204 1 



Atkinson, Lawrence L. 

Private Tuckerton, N. J. 

Atkinson, Linwood D. 

Private 132 Lenox Ave., Oneida, N. Y. 

Babcock, Myron 

fVagoner Whitelake Corners, N. Y. 

Baerenback, Michael, Jr. 

Cook 223 Second St., Union Hill, N. J. 

Baker, Earl O. 

Corporal 830 E. Allen St., Springfield, III. 

Barclay, Freman S. 

Private, 1st class 14 Broad St., Lyons, N. Y. 

Barenthaler, Peter H. 

Sergeant 152 E. Utica St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Barrett, Joseph R. 

Sergeant 18 Columbus Place, Buffalo, N. Y. 

Barry, James J. 

Sergeant 656 S. Salina St., Syracuse, N. Y. 

Belden, Leon W. 

Private 20 Lee Ave., Norwich, N. Y. 

Bellocchio, Charles 

Corporal 619 Traphagen St., West Hoboken, N. J. 
BiGwooD, Charles 

Private 842 Kember St., Camden, N. J. 

Bode, Harry F. 

Private 405 Bloomfield St., Hoboken, N. J. 

BoTTiNELLi, Ned J. 

Cook 408 Syms St , West Hoboken, N. J. 

Bourne, William C. 

Private 61 Model Ave., Trenton, N. J. 

Brady, Stephen 

Wagoner Weedsport, N. Y. 

Broderick, William L. 

Private 162 Old Bergen Road, Jersey City, N. J. 
Brzoskowski, Walter J. 

Private, ist class 91 Quincy St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

[205] 



BuELTEL, Henry N. 

Private Johnsburg, Ind. 

BuKOwsKY, Alexander 

Private 352 Fairmount Ave., Newark, N. J. 

Burke, John H. 

Private 145 Dayon St., Lawville, N. Y. 

Burns, Samuel J. 

Corporal 148 Brighton Ave., Kearny, N. J. 

BuRZEE, Clifford H. 

Private 332 Fifth St., Detroit, Mich. 

Butler, Russell 

Private 815 No. loth Ave., Phoenix, Ariz. 

Callahan, Frank S. 

Private^ 1st class 343 Prospect St., Niagara Falls, N.Y. 
Campbell, Dow 

Wagoner Box 446, Bainbridge, N. Y. 

Carson, Frank B. 

Private 16 Parkdale Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Cestone, Joseph 

Private 71 Glenridge Ave., Montclair, N. J. 

Chambers, John 

Private^ ist class 630 Herndon St., Springfield, 111. 
Colwell, John S. 

Corporal Alexander, 111. 

CoNGDON, Ray F. 

Private^ ist class 5 Griffin St., Norwich, N. Y. 

Cook, Alfred F. 

Private, 1st class 207 Otisco St., Syracuse, N. Y. 
Craig, Charles E. 

Private R. F. D. No. 2, Carbondale, 111. 

Crimmen, Matthew J. 

Wagoner 430 Center St., Jamaica Plains, Mass. 

Curley, George F. 

Private, 1st class 43 Rexford St., Norwich, N. Y. 

D'Andrea, Beltrando 

Private, ist class Box 402, Holley, N, Y. 

[206 1 



Daquino, Joseph 

Private 42 Bishop St., New Brunswick, N. J. 

DeFrancesco, Dominic, Jr. 

Private^ 1st class 809 West 26th St., Erie, Pa. 

Departo, Frank 

Private 672 Fifth St., North Bergen, N. J 

Delaney, Francis J. 

Private^ 1st class 224 Ontario St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Delvida, Dominick 

Private 404 No. i8th St., Herrin, III. 

DeVita, Nicholas 

Private, ist class 5 Zoor Ave., Albany, N. Y. 

DiMMOCK, Reginald 

Private 14 Upton Park, Rochester, N. Y. 

Down, Herman A. 

Corporal Newfield, N. J. 

Eastburn, Jesse J. 

Private Bridgeboro, Burlington Co., N. J. 

Erickson, Carl E. 

Wagoner 223 Curtis St., Jamestown, N. Y. 

Erwin, Robert E. 

Private 456 So. Market St., Marion, 111. 

Evans, Raymond E. 

Private, 1st class 735 Home Ave., Fort Wayne, Ind. 
EwAN, Edward W. 

Cook 398 No. Pearl St., Bridgeton, N. J. 

Farrell, Timothy J. 

Private, ist class 28 1 Atlantic St., Paterson, N. J. 

FoLSOM, Merton W. 

Sergeant Orchard Park, N. Y. 

Ford, Charlie R. 

Private Tamaroa, 111. 

Fegley, Edward, Jr. 

Wagoner 24 Stark St., Waterloo, N. Y. 

Gabalis, Levonas 

Private 2005 E. Adams St., Springfield, 111. 

[207 1 



Garabrant, Girard B, 

Private^ 1st class 182 No. 4th St., Newark, N. J. 

Gaylord, Earl G. 

Private^ ist class -j-j Grove St., Geneva, N. Y. 

Genaitis, Paul P. 

Private^ ist class 109 Pade Ave., South Amboy, N. J. 
Gerber, William V. 

Private^ 1st class Maplehurst Farm, Somerville, N. J. 
Getty, Joseph V. 

Private 42 Gist St., Pittsburgh, Pa. 

Geyer, Walter P. 

Sergeant ^-j-] Norwood Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Giberson, John F. 

Private R. F. D. No. 7, Carrollton, 111. 

Gieseking, Theodor 

Corporal R. F. D. No. i, Collinsville, 111. 

GiLOMEN, August 

Private^ ist class Highland, Madison Co., 111. 

Gleason, George 

Private^ 1st class 250 Johnson St., Buffalo, N. Y. 
Glover, Loran 

PVagoner Wayland, N. Y. 

Greatehouse, George 

Private Clifford, 111. 

Greishaber, Leo L. 

Corporal 1323 Bailey Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Gropp, Clifford L. 

Corporal 141 2 Linden St., Wilmington, Del. 

Grubbs, Clay 

Private 912 Perry x^ve., Mattoon, 111. 

Hall, Seward C. 

Sergeant R. F. D. No. 3, Saratoga Springs, N. Y. 
Hammes, Raymond P. 

Sergeant Wyoming, N. Y. 

Harrawood, James F. 

Corporal 1305 Marshall Ave., Mattoon, 111. 

[208 1 



Harris, George W. 

Corporal Box 92, Palmer, N. Y. 

Harrison, Harold 

Corporal (>22> Whitesboro St., Utica, N. Y. 

Hart, Harry 

Private, ist class 34 Second St., Waterford, N. Y. 
Haynes, Clarence 

Private 545 So. State St., Springfield, III. 

Heath, James H. 

1st Sergeant 291 Devon St., Kearny, N. J. 

Helgeson, John H. 

Private 190 Linden Ave., Jersey City, N. J. 

Henderson, William 

Corporal R. F. D. No. i. New Brunswick, N. J. 

Henry, Robert L. 

Private, ist class 85 Church St., New Brunswick, N.J. 
Heyde, Philip H. 

Private East Marion St., Marion, 111. 

HOEDEBECKE, FrED 

Corporal Teutopolis, 111. 

Hoffmire, Herman L. 

Supply Sergeant 5 Denison St., Binghamton, N. Y. 
Holster, Cornelius 

Private, ist class 256 Summer St., Passaic, N. J. 

Hospodar, Henry 

Private 467 Johnston St., Perth Amboy, N. J. 

Howdershelt, Samuel E. 

Private R. F. D. No. i, Rowlesburg, W. Va. 

HuLSE, Homer C. 

Sergeant Hurffville, N. J. 

Jennings, Harold G. 

Private, 1st class 47 So. 12th St., Newark, N. J. 

Jones, Charles H. 

Private, 1st class Sterlington, N. Y. 

Jones, Thomas 

Private, 1st class 1 1 Wash St., Granville, N. Y. 

[209] 



Kapitain, Charles G. 

Private^ ist class 7517 Calgati Ave., Cleveland, Ohio 
Kearney, James F. 

Private 420 Oak St., Scranton, Pa. 

Keegan, William S. 

Horse-shoer Winthrop, N. Y. 

Kennedy, Eugene 

Corporal 51 Erie St., Lancaster, N. Y. 

Ketchum, Gordon B. 

Corporal 18 Evergreen St., Rochester, N. Y. 

King, George 

Private^ ist class Auburn Ave., Swedesboro, N. J. 
Kinney, Everett 

Private Moweaqua, 111. 

Kirk, Frank G. 

Private 655 So. Park St., Elizabeth, N. J. 

Klaes, Charles J. 

Sergeant 7 Cottage St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Klem, Maynard F. 

Sergeant^ 1st class 439 Avenue A, Rochester, N. Y. 
Koerner, Frederick 

Private 539 Jefferson Place, Union Hill, N. J. 

KosT, Henry N. 

Private, 1st class 472 E. 134th St., New York, N. Y. 
Kroneck, Samuel J. 

Private, 1st class Camden, Oneida Co., N. Y. 

Kuchinskas, Frank 

Private 51 Gilmore St., Rochester, N. Y. 

KuMMER, Norman G. 

Private 403 Charles St., Knoxville, Pa. 

Krause, Eddie A. 

Private Beltrani, Minn. 

Lafferty, Hugh 

Private, 1st class Box 140, Silver Springs, N. Y. 

Lantzy, Augustine J. 

Private Spangler, Pa. 

[210 1 



Large, Charles W. 

Corporal 91 West Kenmore Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 
Larsen, Helmer a. 

Private R. F. D. No. i, Burbank, S. D. 

Lennon, Harold G. 

Private J 1st class 41 1 Lafayette Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 
Lefeve, Eugene 

Private, ist class Hinckley, N. Y. 

Lewis, William E. 

Sergeant 163 Bird Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Little, Thomas 

Corporal 15 13 So. 8th St., Springfield, III. 

Lockhart, Edward A. 

Private 1202 Halsey St., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

LODERBACK, EdWARD E. 

Private 908 Tuscarwas Ave., Barberton, O. 

LoGiODiCE, Nicholas 

Saddler 19 So. Broadway, Nyack, N. Y. 

Love, Elmer W. 

Private, 1st class 1 East Ave., Newark, N. Y. 

LovELAND, Howard C. 

Private, 1st class 508 GifFord St., Syracuse, N. Y. 
MacCallum, Walter W. 

Private loi Browning Road, Merchantville, N. J. 
MacDonald, Patrick G. 

Mess Sergeant 913 Wolf St., Syracuse, N. Y. 

Maas, J. Bennedum 

Private Cochecton Center, Sullivan Co., N. Y. 

Mahoney, Edw^ard J. 

Private, ist class 1^1^'^ Summit Ave., Jersey City, N. J. 
Malkoski, Waclaw 

Private, ist class 352 Bristol St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Maloney, Timothy M. 

Corporal 552 Second St., Troy, N. Y. 

Malpass, Harry 

Private, ist class 1226 Indiana Ave., Trenton, N. J. 
[211] 



Mancuso, Joe 

Private R. F. D. Route No. 30, Leroy, N. Y. 

Margeson, Stewart 

Private, ist class, 79 Brainard St., Phillipsburg, N. J. 
Markovich, Stephen 

Private, 1st class 13 Smith St., Lackawanna, N. Y. 
McClung, Andrew 

Private 1318 Broadway St., Macon, Ga. 

McCuMBER, Leon F. 

Corporal Fulton, N. Y. 

McDoNOUGH, James C. 

Private R. F. D. No. i, Steubenville, Ohio 

McGarvey, Joseph 

Private R. F. D. No. i, Glenmore, N. Y. 

McKellips, Herbert 

Private 12 Silver Springs Ave., E. Providence, R. L 
Miller, Harold D. 

Private, ist class, R.F.D. No. i, Holland Patent, N.Y. 
Miller, Frank E. 

Private, ist class Oxford, N. Y. 

Mohan, Thomas J. 

Private, ist class 327 Dunellen Ave., Dunellen, N.J. 
Morse, Charles C. 

Corporal Dundee, Yates County, N. Y. 

Molinari, Marino 

Private, 1st class 34 Beaver St., Trenton, N. J. 

Montgomery, Joseph 

Private R. F. D. No. 2, Pulaski, Va. 

Morgan, Robert G. 

Sergeant,ist class,i\ i Lexington Ave., Rochester, N Y. 
Morris, Roland A. 

Sergeant 695 Elm St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

MuHs, Ira M. 

Corporal 305 Wilkins St., Rochester, N. Y. 

Murphy, James T. 

Private 200 Ashmore Ave., Trenton, N. J. 

[212 1 



Myshrall, George VV. 

Private 94 Maywood St., Worcester, Mass. 

Nardello, Cesino 

Private^ 1st class 705 South 3rd St., Camden, N. J. 
Naylor, William H. 

Private^ 1st class 278 Fourth St., Troy, N. Y. 

NoE, Byrl 

Corporal Greenville, 111. 

NooNAN, John M. 

Private 8 Second St., Bordentown, N. J. 

NooNAN, Richard D. 

Corporal 13 Speedwell Place, Morris town, N. J. 

NuNN, Guy D. 

Private^ ist class 30 Sherman Ave., Newark, N. J. 
Nutting, Stanley W. 

Cook Adams, N. Y. 

Gates, Patrick H. 

Private, ist class, 37 Garden Place, Edgewater, N. J. 
O'Connell, William J. 

Cook 343 Fourth St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Okolski, Louis 

Private, 1st class Box 259, South River, N. J. 

Page, Harold C. 

Corporal 1437 South Ave., Rochester, N. Y. 

Papazoni, Victor J. 

Corporal 144 Sixth St., West New York, N. J. 

Pascarell, Louis R. 

Private 530 Fellows Ave., Syracuse, N. Y. 

Peden, William L. 

Sergeant 1000 Norman St., Bridgeport, Conn. 

Raneri, Vincenzo 

Private, 1st class 43 Carmine St., New York, N. Y. 
Reid, James 

Private, 1st class Nokonis, 111. 

Reilly, Edward J. 

Private 7-A Waverly Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y, 

[213] 



Richards, George H. 

Private 122 Southhampton St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Ross, George J. 

Private 838 South 8th St., Camden, N. J. 

Roth, Joseph P. 

Sergeant 9 Edmonds St., Rochester, N. Y. 

RuBiNSON, Israel 

Private, 1st class South Fallsburg, N. Y. 

Saffer, Ray 

Private R. R. No. i, Middleton, Ind. 

Smith, Harry 

Corporal Keyport, N. J. 

Snyder, Hartley J. 

Private, ist class Moira, N. Y. 

Spencer, Frederick W. 

Private Tioga Center, N. Y. 

Spink, Harold B. 

Private, ist class 508 No. Madison St., Rome, N. Y. 
Staines, George J. 

Corporal Albion, N. Y. 

Stampean, John 

Private 357 12th St., Niagara Falls, N. Y. 

Stiebeling, Oscar F. 

Private, 1st class 385 South Ave., Bridgeport, Conn. 
Strain, William C. 

Private, ist class 40 Duke St., Kearny, N. J. 

Straus, Fridolin, Jr. 

Private, 1st class Eldred, Sullivan Co., N. Y. 

Swan, Robert G. 

Sergeant, ist class 1338 Park Ave., Rochester, N. Y. 
Swan, Thomas A. 

Private 182 9th St., Passaic, N. J. 

Thompson, Horace 

Private 44 West State St., Trenton, N. J. 

Thornton, Frank P. 

Private R. F. D. No. 3, Plattsburg, N. Y. 

[214] 



Triesch, Gustave M. 

Corporal 202 So. loth St., Newark, N. J. 

Tremba, Joseph 

Private^ ist class 181 12th St., Jersey City, N. J. 

Uhl, Joseph E. 

Corporal 15 Jennings St., Corning, N. Y. 

Utz, Charles F. 

Private Box 198, Avon, N. Y. 

VoNDY, Arthur H. 

Corporal 21 East 39th St., Bayonne, N. J. 

Wallbrown, Thomas H. 

Private Duncan, W. Va. 

Wart, Harry 

Corporal 703 So. Puck St., Syracuse, N. Y. 

Weinerth, Burdett 

Private^ 1st class Hartlot, Onondaga Co., N. Y. 

Wheeler, Robert L. 

Corporal Leonardsville, N. Y. 

White, Christopher 

Private 42 Waldron Ave., Central Nyack, N. Y. 

Wicks, Floyd D. 

Lyons, N. Y. 



Sergeant, 1st class 
Wiley, George L. 

Private, ist class 
Williams, John E. 

Corporal 
Williams, Milton H. 

Sergeant 
Wilson, Leslie L. 

Corporal 
Wilson, Virgil L 

Sergeant 
Wlosek, John 

Private 
Yaeger, Fred 

Wagoner 



6 Norton St., Nashua, N. H. 
32 Tyler St., Trenton, N. J. 
55 Grove Place, Utica, N. Y. 
loi Lynn St., Ithaca, N. Y. 
217 Franklin St., Buffalo, N. Y. 
5 School St., Passaic, N. J. 

132 Grey St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

1215] 



Yerke, Charles G. 

Corporal 67 Maple Ave., Gowanda, N. Y. 

Young, A. Theodore 

Sergeant Ohioville, N. Y. 

Officers and enlisted men transferred from this 
Company while in France. 

OFFICERS 

Captain Robert A. Greenfield 

122 No. Columbus Ave., Mount Vernon, N.Y. 
Captain Warner King 

Gi^d Putman Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 
2ND Lieutenant Henry B. Aiken 

Bells, Tenn. 
2ND Lieutenant Glenn C. Hawk 

Cleveland, Ohio 

ENLISTED MEN 

Ambrose, Benjamin J. 

Corporal 2135 Fillmore Ave., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Anderson, Andrew 

Private 311 Madison Ave., Perth Amboy, N. J. 

BoRGYON, Morris 

Private^ 1st class Barnard, N. Y. 

BooTE, Albert C. 

Sergeant 39 Wallace St., Corning, N. Y. 

Brill, Max D. 

Private 939 Jackson Ave., New York, N. Y. 

Buck, Homer E. 

Private^ 1st class 20 Yalor Ave., Waterloo, N. Y. 

Burton, John W. 

Private^ ist class Nokonis, 111. 

Church, Theodore 

Private Stamford, N. Y. 

[216] 



Cochran, Clarence H. 

Private 1292 Hamilton Ave., Trenton, N. J. 

Cook, Forrest L. 

Private Westmoreland, N. Y. 

Cook, Raymond 

Private 704 Maryland Ave., Asbury Park, N. J. 

Cronin, Daniel F. 

Private 8 Charles St., Ilion, N. Y. 

Cunningham, Arthur J. 

Private, ist class 218 Arthur St., Utica, N. Y. 

Curtis, Robert L. 

Private, ist class Millbrook Ave., Dover, N. J. 

Darago, Frank 

Private, 1st class, 1 8 Prospect St., New Brunswick, N. J. 
Darcy, Joseph J. 

Sergeant Cazenovia, N. Y. 

Dempsey, George J. 

Private 105 East 8th St., Oswego, N. Y. 

Donaldson, Cortland B. 

Corporal Box 368, Grantwood, N. J. 

Edwards, Brinley 

Private 140 Wood St., Frostburg, Md. 

Felter, Merle R. 

Private, 1st class Groton, N. Y. 

Foster, Clarke G. 

Cook 14 James St., Auburn, N. Y. 

GiBBS, Wesley Jr. 

Private 2353 S. Broad St., Trenton, N. J. 

GiBBs, Ryall C. 

Private Main St., Great Meadows, N. J. 

Gilberg, Frank J. 

Corporal 27 Palisade Ave., Union Hill, N. J. 

Greene, Leicester G. 

Private, 1st class Sauquoit, N. Y. 

Greenman, Arthur D. 

Sergeant 4 East Main St., Cortland, N. Y. 

[217 1 



Greenstein, Samuel 

Private 289 West Kinney St., Newark, N. J. 

Harper, Kenneth R. 

Corporal ^2 Clayborne St., Dorchester, Mass. 

Harvey, William J. 

Corporal 42 Grant Ave., New Brunswick, N. J. 

Hoffman, Walter A. 

Private y 1st class 461 Alexander St., Rochester, N. Y. 
Hull, Oran D. 

Private 318 Stebbins Place, Plainfield, N. J. 

Hurst, Earl O. 

Private 253 Parkwood Ave., Kenmore, N. Y. 

Imperiale, Joseph 

Private Grand St., Moonachie, N. J. 

Jandrew, Roy W. 

Private R. F. D. No. i, Waddington, N. Y. 

Johnson, William A. 

Private 347 East 78th St., New York, N. Y. 

Krueger, William J. 

Wagoner 48 Hooker St., Kingston, N. Y. 

KuBEK, Max 

Private 155 West Kinney St., Newark, N. J. 

Lake, Claude L. 

Private Edge wood, N. J. 

Lawrence, Gordon A. 

Corporal Cornwall-on-Hudson, N. Y. 

Lewis, Fred J. 

Private Seattle, Wash 

Mackin, Charles 

Private 104 West 7th St., Oswego, N. Y. 

McKeown, Edward F. 

Private 1320 Maryland Ave., Wilmington, Del. 

Moore, Ernest A. 

Private 14 Flagg Ave., Jamestown, N. Y. 

Morgan, Michael 

Private 502 VanVorst Place, Town of Union, N. J. 
[218 1 



Nassau, Jason J. 

Corporal Waverly, N. Y. 

Patermo, Vincent J. 

Private 23 No. Mississippi Ave., Atlantic City, N.J. 
QuiNN, Harry F. 

Private 74 Day St., Orange, N. J. 

Randall, Clarence F. 

Private 1 14 Myrtle St., Corning, N. Y. 

Rollings, Charles S. 

Sergeant LaCenter, Ky. 

Ryan, Emmett J., Jr. 

Corporal 21 Cayuga St., Seneca Falls, N. Y. 

Ryan, Harold W. 

Private Cherry Ave., Aurora, N. Y. 

ScANLON, Robert J. 

J St Sergeant West Clinton St., Ithaca, N. Y. 

Schoen, Charles F. 

Private 292 Grey St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Schreck, Frank G. 

Private^ 1st class 133 Woodward St.,Rochester, N. Y. 
ScHULTz, Edward W. 

Private 14 Adams St., Tonawanda, N. Y. 

ScHUMAN, John E. 

Private 463 Riley St., Buffalo, N. Y. 

Thorsen, Otto A. 

Private 3917 Fifth Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y. 

Tomei, Arnesto 

Private, 1st class i^S Bennett St., Hornell, N. Y. 

Valley, Wilfred J. 

Private, 1st class Box 32, Reeds Ferry, N. H. 

Wells, Fredus P. 

Private, 1st class, 2323 West i6th St.,Wilmington, Del. 
Wienke, Hugo P. 

Corporal R. F. D. No. 14, LaSalle, N. Y. 

Woodnutt, Charles P. 

Private 920 Stephen Girard Bldg., Philadelphia,Pa. 
[219 1 



(Corrected Copy) 
{Destroy all previous copies.) 

(For Official Circulation Only.) [G. O. 232. 

G. H. Q. 

AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCES 

General Orders France, Dec. ig, igi8. 

No. 232. 

It is with a sense of gratitude for its splendid accomplishment, 
which will live through all history, that I record in General Or- 
ders a tribute to the victory of the First Army in the Meuse- 
Argonne battle. 

Tested and strengthened by the reduction of the St. Mihiel salient, 
for more than six weeks you battered against the pivot of the enemy 
line on the western front. It was a position of imposing natural 
strength, stretching on both sides of the Meuse River from the 
bitterly contested hills of Verdun to the almost impenetrable for- 
est of the Argonne; a position, moreover, fortified by four years of 
labor designed to render it impregnable; a position held with the 
fullest resources of the enemy. That position you broke utterly, 
and thereby hastened the collapse of the enemy's military power. 

Soldiers of all of the divisions engaged under the First, Third and 
Fifth American Corps and the Second Colonial and Seventeenth 
French Corps — the ist, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 5th, 26th, 28th, 29th, 32nd, 
33rd, 35th, 37th, 42nd, 77th, 78th, 79th, 80th, 8ist, 82nd, 89th, 
90th and 91st American divisions, the i8th and 26th French divi- 
sions, and the loth and 15th French Colonial divisions — you will be 
long remembered for the stubborn persistence of your progress, your 
storming of obstinately defended machine gun nests, your penetra- 
tion, yard by yard, of woods and ravines, your heroic resistance in 
the face of counter-attacks supported by powerful artillery fire. 
For more than a month, from the initial attack of September 26th, 
you fought your way slowly through the Argonne, through the woods 
and over hills west of the Meuse; you slowly enlarged your hold on 
the Orcq de Meuse to the east, and then, on the ist of November, 
your attack forced the enemy into flight. Pressing his retreat, you 
cleared the entire left bank of the Meuse south of Sedan, and then 
stormed the heights on the right bank and drove him into the plain 
beyond. 

Soldiers of all army and corps troops engaged — to you no less 
credit is due; your steadfast adherence to duty and your dogged 
determination in the face of all obstacles made possible the heroic 
deeds cited above. 

[220] 



The achievement of the First Army which is scarcely to be equalled 
in American history, must remain a source of proud satisfaction 
to the troops who participated in the last campaign of the war. 
The American people will remember it as the realization of the 
hitherto potential strength of the American contribution toward 
the cause to which they had sworn allegiance. There can be no 
greater reward for a soldier or for a soldier's memory. 

This order will be read to all organizations at the first assembly 
formation after its receipt. 

JOHN J. PERSHING, 

General, Commander-in-Chief, 
American Expeditionary Forces. 
Official: 

ROBERT C. DAVIS, 
Adjutant General. 



(Corrected Copy) 

(For Official Circulation Only.) (G. O. 238. 1 

G. H. Q. 

AMERICAN EXPEDITIONARY FORCES 

General Orders France, Dec. 26, igi8. 

No. 238. 

It is with soldierly pride that I record in General Orders a trib- 
ute to the taking of the St. Mihiel salient by the First Army. 

On September 12, 191 8, you delivered the first concerted oflfensive 
operation of the American Expeditionary Forces upon difficult 
terrain against this redoubtable position, immovably held for four 
years, which crumpled before your ably executed advance. Within 
twenty-four hours of the commencement of the attack, the salient 
had ceased to exist and you were threatening Metz. 

Your divisions, which had never been tried in the exacting con- 
ditions of major offensive operations, worthily emulated those of 
more arduous experience and earned their right to participate in 
the more difficult task to come. Your staff and auxiliary services, 
which labored so untiringly and so enthusiastically, deserve equal 
commendation, and we are indebted to the willing co-operation of 
veteran French divisions and of auxiliary units which the Allied 
commands put at our disposal. 

[2211 



Not only did you straighten a dangerous salient, capture 16,000 
prisoners and 443 guns, and liberate 240 square miles of French 
territory, but you demonstrated the fitness for battle of a unified 
American Army. 

We appreciate the loyal training and effort of the First Army. 
In the name of our country, I offer our hearty and unmeasured 
thanks to these splendid Americans of the ist, 4th and 5th Corps 
and of the 1st, 2nd, 4th, 5th, 26th, 42nd, 82nd, 89th and 90th Divi- 
sions, which were engaged, and of the 3rd, 35th, 78th, 80th and 91st 
Divisions, which were in reserve. 

This order will be read to all organizations at the first assembly 
formation after its receipt. 

JOHN J. PERSHING, 

General, Commander-in-Chief. 
Official: 

ROBERT C. DAVIS, 

Adjutant General. 



Headquarters, 303RD Engineers 
78TH Division 

May 23, igig. 
Regimental Bulletin 
No. 27 

1. The following letter from the Office of the Chief Engineer, 
American E. F., dated May 19th, 191 9, is quoted for the information 
and guidance of all concerned: 

"i. Now that the activities of our Army in France are drawing 
to a close and units are rapidly returning to the United States, it is 
my desire to place upon record and to make known to your command, 
my appreciation of their earnest efforts and notable accomplish- 
ments with the Expeditionary Forces in Europe. 

2. The earnest application and good bearing of the regiment 
during the period of training with the British was a fitting prelude 
to its highly commendable work in both the St. Mihiel and Meuse- 
Argonne operations with the 78th Division. The arduous and varied 
duties of the sapper engineer were performed to the entire satisfac- 
tion of all concerned. The record of your regiment should be a 
matter of personal pride to every member of your command. 

[222 1 



, I reauest that you publish this letter to your command, thus 
car;ying tfthe officers an'd men a final word of commendation for 
their many sacrifices and loyal devotion to our cause. 

[Signed] W. C. LANGFITT, , 

Major General^ U. S. A. 

By Order of Lieut. Colonel Browne, 

WARNER KING, 

Captain, Engrs., U. S A., 

Regtl. Personnel Adjt. 



Headquarters, First Army 
American Expeditionary Forces, France 

r. . March 25, 1919- 

General Orders 

No. 17 
In compliance with telegraphic instructions from G^^-Q.'^' f/" 
the vsToivision stands Relieved from this Army on Apnl 6, 1919- 

The 78th Division, joining the First Army on August 30, 19^8, 
participated in the following operations of this Army: 
St. Mihiel Operation 
The 78th Division participated in this operation first as a reserve 
of the I Corps, and later by holding the Limey Sector. 



Meuse-Argonne Operation 
The 78th Division, having been relieved from the Limey Sector, 
ioiled ?he Army Reserve in the Meuse-Argonne Sector on October 
Irh On October 15-16 and 17th, the 78th Division relieved the 
?7^h Division a ong^he southern banks of the Aire River facing 
Ss de Wes and Grandpre. While holding the Limey Sector 
fhe 78th ofvision participated in several severe local engagements 
and the demonstration of September a6th. 

Between October 15th and 31st this division executed contmuous 
attacks against the difficult and strongly ^eld terr^'" ° 3^;;3^/;f 

hand" engagements. 

[223] 



The division participated in the Army's general attack of Novem- 
ber I, advancing between that date and November 5th approximately 
twenty kilometers and through the localities of Briquenay, Boult 
aux Bois, Chatillon sur Bar, Brieulles sur Bar, Les Petities Armoises 
to the heights east of Tannay. 

The Army Commander desires to convey to Major General Mc- 
Rae (commanding the 78th Division) and the officers and soldiers 
of the 78th Division, his appreciation of the excellent services rend- 
ered by this division as a combat unit of the First Army. The 
Army Commander and the Army greatly admired the tenacity, and 
aggressiveness of the troops and the leadership of General McRae 
and his subordinates of the 78th Division during the hard and con- 
tinuous fighting which resulted in the capture by the 78th Division 
of the heights east of Talma Ferme and of Grand pre. 

The 78th Division in leaving the Army carries with it the best 
wishes of the Army Commander for its future abroad and in the 
United States. 

By Command of Lieutenant-General Liggett: 

H. A. DRUM, 

ChieJ of Staff. 
Official: 

H. K. LOUGHRY, 

Adjutant General. 

By Command of Major-General McRae: 

A. J. L'HEUREUX, 

Adjutant. 



224 



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